


Stealing Hearts and Promises

by TheSleepyNinja15



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Inheritance, Romance, Traditions, governess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2019-12-18 17:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18254957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleepyNinja15/pseuds/TheSleepyNinja15
Summary: Ceci is the governess of the Britannia household yet, she's not only there to care for their well-being, it's her mission to free her family from the contract it made with the nobility. But when the viscount's bastard son intrudes in their lives to claim the inheritance he believes is rightfully his, will her firm resolve remain in tact? Or will letting him in ruin her plans? AU





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 

All of this could have been prevented if she didn't fall for his charms.

If she had kept her eyes wide open and she wasn't blinded by his sparkling promises of adventures and freedom, of glorious recklessness.

If her hearing wasn't muffled by his heart-pounding praises, singing to her the hymn of enchantment, whispering olden fairytales and words which brought cherries to her cheeks.

All of this could have been prevented if she had listened to the tiny voice in her head and just gave all of her attention to the twins and considered him as the plain bastard that he was.

If he had remained as the plain bastard whose manners rivaled that of an exiled boorish prince who returned from the depths of forest to claim his golds.

If he hadn't showed her that even the wildest boars were capable of caring for those they had trusted and cherished.

Well, they wouldn't be in this situation if she hadn't taken his hand that one faithful warm summer day.

Yet all had been said and done, and now she was left with a great amount of stupidity directed towards herself, tears replacing the cherries on her cheeks, and a broken heart.

"Hear me out, Ceci," he pleaded.

She stared at him through watery gaze, seeing him under a new kind of light. Or perhaps,  _this_ light had always been shining down upon him but she had refused to look up beyond his handsome face, contented by the glow of his crystal amethyst eyes. What a foolish woman she was.

She shook her head, not trusting her voice to speak out words of vulnerability and helplessness. She couldn't give him more power over her when he had been playing with her heart throughout the whole time. No, this time, it would be her who would make the tables turn. It would be her who would decide how this game would end.

And ending it would be for it was not only her whom he had lied to, but also to the twins and the viscount.

His eyes widened, realizing that none of his pleads would be heard, that her ears which were once eager for his voice were now tightly folded and closed. Lifting his arm out, he tried to reach her but she immediately took a step back.

"This is more than what you are thinking," he tried again, much gentler, much slower as his feet approached her. "If only you'll hear me out."

"Enough." She looked up at him with anger in her eyes. "I've seen enough."

"Ceci…"

What had everyone in their town told her? Never trust a younger man's words. Never fall inlove with a younger man. Because not only it was frowned upon in their society, but these lads knew how to make even the sweetest apples bitter and poisonous.

Suddenly, she was tired. She couldn't look up at him anymore. Her neck had been strained ever since she met him. So she bowed, putting the gap in their ranks between them – overlapped her hands infront of her and said, "May I humbly ask The Honourable Lelouch Lamperouge to excuse me for the night?"


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

At the very least, it is summer.

Not autumn, winter nor spring. Although winter has its own frigid charm – a season when children sit infront of the fireplace, warm chocolates in their cups as they listen to the endless tales of knighthood adventures to save the princess. Piles of thick clothes – red, green, and yellow – enveloping their small bodies as their cheeks remain plump and red, ready to be kissed good night by their sleepy parents.

But one cannot easily run over the snow during winter.

Then, there is autumn. A season of brown, brown, brown. Mahogany, chestnut, rosewood, oak, the enchanting shade of freckles sprinkled over a porcelain skin, the color of a pair of honey dewed eyes glistening under the cool sun. Townsfolk play over mountains of fallen leaves during a cold autumn afternoon – burying an innocent lad underneath the light weight but will later get resurrected like a beloved king of a forgotten kingdom as the delighted laughter of his people echoes in the wind. Autumn is a season of contentment over the simplest things, the season of nostalgia and childhood games.

But one cannot simply swim in the cold waters during autumn.

Spring is a tricky season. Or one would say, the season of unknown possibilities. Of finally starting a new life, of hopes and bright future. Of wearing the most colorful dresses and shiny shoes on solid pavements. But it's also the time to bid a bittersweet goodbye to the memories made in the tiny corners of an inn during winter. The time to halt sleeping in the day and of beginning to rise again early in the morning to tend the garden. Spring is a season of contradictions. The sun is high up in the sky but the wind is as cold as ice. Snow on the ground had finally melted but people wouldn't let the warmth of their boots go for a while. Yet, it is bright, bright, everywhere is bright.

But one cannot just remove their coat during spring.

So there is summer. Where everything a person sees is just how it is… How it should be. The sun is glaring, it is hot. The wind blows, it is humid. Children run freely on the fields tasting the heat and sweat on their faces. The youth, especially young men, jump over low cliffs to land and swim in warm lakes and rivers. Ladies forego their thick coats and wear their dresses made of lightest materials as they parade their pretty and quirky summer hats. In summer, everything is in plain sight – the furrow between the vendor's eyebrows when a buyer wouldn't agree on his price, the blush on the maiden's cheeks after receiving a flower from her suitor, the optimism of everyone just because it is another good day to do their own chores.

Summer is the season of honesty and boldness.

But this year's summer seems to have forgotten how to be a 'real summer'.

The season officially started last week yet it had been raining since then.

Inside the humble abode of the Britannia household, two pairs of soft purple eyes glance gloomily outside the large windows of the study, a sense of disappointment only those who long to play games possess transpire in their irises.

Someone older, someone wiser clears her throat and catches their attention back to the task at hand.

"And I will repeat, if Mr. Thomas gives the thirteen apples to Mrs. Rebecca, how many apples will be left for him to sell?"

The girl, Nunnally, tilts her head like a bird and looks at their governess curiously. "Why does Mrs. Rebecca need thirteen apples? Does she sell apples, too?"

Without missing a beat, the governess answers, "Perhaps, she plans to share them to her friends and neighbors."

"Oh, oh! She'll give some to her children and then she will keep the rest for their horse."

"Does Mrs. Rebecca own a horse?" This time, the question comes from the seven-year old boy sitting beside his twin sister. "Papa has a lot of horses."

"Can we ride horses today, Miss Ceci?" asks Nunnally. With all of her seven-year old courage, she stares at their beautiful governess with wide pleading and innocent eyes. Miss Ceci is a good lady. She is unlike her friend Anya's governess who always carry a stick and would sometimes hit her friend's hands if she got the answer wrong. Or when Anya forgot to put her doll back to its box, as her friend told her during one of their playdates.

Her Miss Ceci does not scold them when they do not understand the question or the reading especially when it comes to Math. Math! Just thinking about the subject makes her want to take an afternoon nap! Instead, their gentle governess will patiently explain to them each big word that is too difficult for their young minds to understand. Like… Like the word 'menercary'! Or is it 'mecercary'? Now, she couldn't remember but it has to do with soldiers. Why they are learning about soldiers, Nunnally does not know, too but she trusts Miss Ceci's judgment because sometimes, Miss Ceci will make them hot chocolates secretly even though it is not yet the season for hot chocolates. Just thinking about it makes her want to giggle. Chocolate was smeared on their lips and their governess wiped them with a smile on her face. Really, their Miss Ceci is the best governess, and Nunnally and Rolo adore her so much.

Perhaps, she will allow them to hug her again just like last night? After all, they had practiced the polite way of asking her before going to sleep. And Miss Ceci is all warm and soft and smells like her favorite oranges. But first, Nunnally must convince her to allow them to ride horses because summer has been unenjoyable so far. And the ever-kind Miss Ceci will definitely understand the sadness of the seven-year old twins, correct?

But their beloved governess regretfully shakes her head. "The viscount had said that you are not allowed to ride horses until you are ten, doesn't he?"

"But papa is away! He won't know it if we don't tell him!" protests Rolo.

"Your voice, my child," Miss Ceci gently chides.

Embarrassed, Rolo's cheeks turn red as he tries again to reason out in a more polite and courteous manner just like how their governess taught them. "My apologies, ma'am… Uhmmm, can we ride horses today while father is still away? We promise that we will behave and not cause the horses any discomfort."

"We will be careful with the horses," Nunnally adds.

Miss Ceci's eyes flit between them and suddenly all Nunnally could think of is honey. Oh, she suddenly wants to have bread and honey. But her stomach could wait. Horses are the priority at the moment.

"Horses are truly great animals, aren't they?" Miss Ceci pleasantly starts and the twins' hope pleasantly rises as well. "They can pull wagons with heavy loads, run as fast as the wind, and eat lots and lots of hay."

Nunnally raises her hand and waits for the governess' acknowledgment before speaking. "And they have beautiful, soft hair."

"Indeed. But look…."

The twins follow where her forefinger is pointing at and the feeling of disappointment washes over their faces again upon seeing the endless rain.

"But like humans, they can also get sick if they stay under the rain. Now, we don't want them to be weak and unhealthy."

Nunnally and Rolo shake their heads sadly. "No, we don't."

"So how about this? Let us finish all of the lessons while it is still raining and as soon as the sun shows itself again, I'll ask the viscount about horseback riding?"

"You will?! Uhm… Will you truly do that, Miss Ceci?" Rolo asks.

"Yes. But you have to promise that you're going to study diligently for now."

Lifting their hands as if taking an oath, the twins commit, "We promise, Miss Ceci."

They are rewarded with the governess' warm smile that Nunnally always relates to butterflies and sunrise, and she knows that they did well with promising her. After all, Miss Ceci had been the mother figure they had grown up with as far as her young mind could remember. Their real mother died after giving birth to the twins and sometimes, Nunnally wonders how it would be like to have their mama take care of them. Anya's mama is kind and pretty. Marybell's mama is a bit scary especially when she wears heavy make-up. Rolo said he was certain that their real mama would be the most beautiful and kindest because papa is the most handsome and kindest papa in the world.

_Then she will be like Miss Ceci?_  Nunnally had replied.  _Can Miss Ceci be our second mama?_

But Rolo doesn't know. Miss Ceci does not join them in the table to eat, doesn't she? And sometimes, she goes back to her  _real_ home to spend some time with her sister. Do mamas leave their children for a few days? He had never seen his playmate Leon without his mother.

For now, they are happy to have Miss Ceci on their side. Her warmth, gentleness, and grace are enough for the twins to feel loved and cherished especially when papa is away. After all, her constant silent presence in the household had been a fixture that no one could imagine to go without and for that simple fact, the twins are always grateful for their father for hiring Miss Ceci.

"That is good," the older woman says. "So I believe, we can now go back to answering this Math problem. Are you done calculating your answers?"

But still, Nunnally does not like Mathematics.

* * *

Music is not Rolo's best subject.

He can follow and produce a note or two but his skill is that of a child learning his first alphabet – unsure, clumsy and nervous. No matter how many times Miss Ceci had taught them of the basics of playing the piano, his young mind seems to be having a hard time grasping the lessons and that worries the child to no end. Because papa is very good at playing the piano and Nunnally is beginning to show that she is skillful too. He tried to copy the way her fingers would speak with the keys, the pressure she would carefully put in order to create a sleepy note. But everytime he would take his turn, the piano turns into a monster – growling and screaming unpleasant sounds that almost make Nunnally cry. And Miss Ceci would look at him with sad eyes.

To add more to the child's worries, he  _accidentally_ (that's because Miss Ceci told them it is impolite to listen to other people's private conversation, especially when it was occurring between two maids and Rolo was in a place where he shouldn't be) heard about the adoption that Mr. and Mrs. Waldstein did.

So one cold afternoon, when summer hasn't come yet and winter was reigning over the land, he asked Miss Ceci about it during one of their piano lessons.

"Miss Ceci, am I adopted?" he shyly inquired. It was a one-on-one piano lesson, with Nunnally being with their nanny, and Rolo thought it was good for his twin not to hear his problem. Because what if he was truly adopted? Did it mean that Nunnally was not his 'real twin sister'? Just thinking about it made him want to cry.

The relaxing melody permeating the room came to a sudden halt as the governess' finger remained suspended in the air.

He felt her turn towards him. Making himself much smaller than he was, he lifted his shoulders up to his ears readying himself for the answer she would give him.

"Do you know what 'adopted' means?" the governess asked in that voice that always made Rolo feel safe.

He hesitated for a while before finally nodding. "It means that papa and mama is not my true father and mother. My real parents put me inside a basket and left it outside the gate where maybe, one of the helps found me."

"Or perhaps the basket was found floating on the river and it got caught on the net of a kind fisherman who brought it to the viscount."

His brown head quickly whipped to her direction, tears ready to flow down his cheeks. "So it is true? I am adopted, Miss Ceci?"

"Of course not," was the fast response of the governess as she wiped some of the tears that had escaped from his eyes. "I was younger than I am that time. Nineteen to be accurate, when I saw your mama gave birth to you and Nunnally." Miss Ceci briefly looked up and scrunched her nose, an act that she only showed them whenever they feel down, and which always comforted the twins immediately. "Well, not that I actually 'saw', but I waited outside of her room with my own mother as the lady gave birth. And after a few minutes, or was it hours? Milly opened the door and the first thing I saw was you and Nunnally lying on your mother's chest."

"So I'm not adopted?" he asked again, but now with a much lighter and relieved tone in his voice.

"You are not adopted, my child." The governess frowned down at him. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I cannot play the piano well. Papa and Nunnally are good at it. And maybe mama, too. But I am not."

Miss Ceci chuckled good-naturedly and Rolo wondered if their governess eats bells for meals. Redness tinged his ears as he realized how silly and childish his words were. But he was still a child, wasn't he?

"I'll let you in a secret. Do you promise that this will stay just between the two of us?"

Straightening his posture, Rolo put his chest out and swore, "As the gentleman in the house, I promise that I will keep this a secret even to Nunnally."

"Hmmm. Your mama was also not good in playing the piano in the beginning."

"Really?"

The governess nodded. "Her fingers were quite clumsy. They danced to their own rhythm, spilling notes here and there like chatty birds and the piano couldn't keep up with her melody. Can you imagine it? The viscount would sit there," she pointed at the long couch by the window, "all red and nervous as he silently suffered from her private recital, not brave enough to tell her to stop for he was afraid of her anger."

Rolo couldn't help but laugh as he indeed imagined the scenario. He couldn't fathom how their big, strong papa would be reduced to a cowardly man who was afraid of his wife. And being all red and nervous! He could see him as a ripe round tomato sitting on the couch which made him laugh even more.

"Are you feeling well now?" Miss Ceci asked.

It was after a few more moments, a few little melodies played by his governess, that Rolo escaped from the fits of laughter. "I am. Thank you, Miss Ceci. But may I ask another question?"

"Please do so."

Positioning his fingers on top of the keys, he tried producing a note. He flinched at the ungraceful way it echoed inside the Music Room but that didn't discourage him to continue. "Did mama become better?"

The governess put his hands over the right keys, and with her fingers over his, she guided him with the right amount of pressure and care as they pressed the keys together.

The governess looked down at him with a proud smile on her face and the boy couldn't help but feel giddy with excitement. "She did, Rolo, and that is because she didn't give up."

Some days, that eventful afternoon would visit Rolo's mind – when he is busy solving Math problems, learning how to read difficult words, or when he is playing with Nunnally. And everytime he thinks of it, a smile would voluntarily appear between his plump cheeks.

_Why are you smiling?_ Nunnally would ask.

_It's a secret_ , he would always answer which would make his sister all pouty.

But he had made a promised to Miss Ceci back then and gentlemen do not break their promises.

And how could he ever forget about that day when it was the first time his fingers sang harmoniously in tune?

* * *

"Are they already asleep?"

The tall blonde girl jumps upon hearing her voice. Turning around, the nanny glares at her. "You scared me, Ceci. Don't creep on my back especially when I am closing the door. What if I accidentally closed it harder than necessary and woke them up? Good grief, as a governess – "

"Hush, you're going to wake them up with your dramatic voice, Milly."

Grabbing Milly's arm with her left hand while her right one holds a lamp, she guides her in the dark corridor until they reach the empty kitchen. There, they sit across each other with only the square oak table separating them.

"Have you already eaten?" asks Milly, breaking the silence of the night.

"I did, as they were eating dinner."

Leaning in, the nanny puts her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her palm. Under the dim moonlight, her purple eyes are almost as soft as the twins but Ceci does not let them trick her for whatever comes out of her friend's mouth is far from soft and more likely to be scandalous. "Aren't you getting lonely, my friend?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… You've always been treated differently from the rest of the helpers in this household. Being the governess puts you to a state that is well above the maids but quite below the family we are serving, and you are alone in that status."

Ceci chooses to wait for her to finish before deciding to interrupt.

"With that, you were settled to do mundane things alone such as eating. Your room is even situated at the opposite wing, away from the quarters. Who would wake you up when you have nightmares?"

Milly, dear Milly with her genuine but misplaced concerns.

"I am fortunate that I don't have one."

"My point is," Milly ignores her comment, "you are already at the right age… Some would even argue that you are past the right age but you are beautiful, no, I am not praising you for favors so stop looking at me like that. Where am I? Oh, you are beautiful, well-off and intelligent. Most importantly, you are good with children. Don't you think that it is time for you to find a husband and carry children of your own?"

A mask of disbelief shrouds the governess face. "But men do not find intelligent women appealing," she scoffs. "They prefer someone who could take care of their house when they are away, someone who is content to watch over their children as the husband explores the adventures of the world."

"But isn't that what you are doing right now in this household? You are basically the unofficial woman of the house."

A hot blush creeps on her cheeks and Ceci immediately tries to hide it by glowering at her friend. But nothing could escape the sharp eyes of Millicent Ashford, especially when she is able to irk her friend. "I am not the woman of this house, Milly," she emphasizes. "And I didn't bring you here to discuss these things."

For a moment, it seems like the nanny would add more thoughts on the senseless subject and Ceci is ready to leave her in the kitchen if she wouldn't be able to talk to her properly. Fortunately, Milly Ashford releases the sigh that Ceci needed.

"Alright. I'm dropping the subject for now. But I may know a few decent men who might be willing to be your company."

Ceci just waves her off. "I just want to know if everything is already properly arranged."

"Three days, you say?" The blonde taps her chin. "The twins and I will be able to live without you for three days. And with the viscount finally returning from the capital, the children will be quite distracted for a while so spend your vacation without worrying about us."

"Please do not forget their schedule, particularly their reading time. I'm quite worried about Nunnally being forgetful of her consonants."

"Leave it all to me. When you return, Nunnally will be able to recite the entire 'Romeo and Juliet' from cover to cover."

"Now, I am more worried," Ceci says with a carefree smile on her face.

Milly laughs disturbing the quietness of the night again. "I am serious. Enjoy your days with your sister. Have you bought her a gift?"

"I actually made it."

"Ooooh, that's pleasant… The viscount is quite generous, huh? For letting you visit your family whenever you requested. Honestly, it is rather a rare arrangement compared to other households. You must be aware of the gossips flying in the quarters."

Ceci's smile turns tight. It is true that the viscount is a kind and understanding man. Someone who she herself looked up to. Admired even for his love for his family and devotion to his dead wife. And for the years that Ceci had been with the Britannia family, even before she became the governess of the house, never once that she felt she was ostracized for not being their blood relative. For that she is immensely grateful.

But the viscount doesn't understand enough. He isn't kind enough.

For if he was, she wouldn't be sitting in the kitchen and having this conversation in the middle of the night, all the while wondering about what would be the future of her family.

She slightly tilts her head to the side and there it is - the lulling pelting of water against the hard concrete. Almost inaudible, almost inexistent. But there, nonetheless. In the longing eyes of children and youth.

And Ceci sits there, wondering when this summer rain will end.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

There was a time when she thought that they were mere strangers to each other – that the other girl was just a visitor who was fondly adored by her mother and father.

There was a time, when she was a lot younger than now, too young to understand how complex the society they're living in, that she thought her parents were favoring a girl unrelated to them more than they did to their own blood.

But could the adults blame her? When her older sister barely lived in their house and spent much more time with people she barely knew? When her older sister only come by their home twice a week, thrice if the Britannias were being generous, and then leave her by Monday to play on her own?

Shirley Fenette once thought that her older sister was someone who she needed to compete with to gain their parents' affection, particularly their father's. Their blacksmith father who would always abandon any work he was doing in order to greet the green-haired girl outside the gate – lifting her up in the air making her emerald tresses danced with the wind as a joyous smile plastered on his lips.

_Why are you stealing my father from me?_  she asked once.

Amber eyes stared back at her with innocent confusion yet also with unusual maturity for a ten-year old girl and that suddenly made Shirley felt small and afraid.

But later on, after a few explanations from her mother and much attention from her father, Shirley Fenette understood how important the older girl's sacrifice is for the wellbeing of their family. How Ceci's sacrifice could easily had been hers if she was born first. Since then, Shirley cherishes each day that her sister spend at home especially now that there is only the two of them working together to continue their family's legacy. Or what little left of it, as Ceci always says with a frown.

Familiar hooves dance on earth as the ginger woman rises from her perch by the window. Cheerfully, she runs down the narrow stairs – the light fabric of her cerulean skirt skimming her milky skin – as she mindlessly pats her hair down, a gesture she had learned from her overly-proper sister.

Opening the door, the sight of Ceci going out of the Britannia's carriage greets her and her run gradually become slower until she is a princess walking graciously down the pathway.

"Welcome back."

The hooded figure turns to the sound of her voice but waits patiently until the carriage left and privacy is bestowed to them. Taking the hood off, Shirley scrunches her nose at the sight of her sister's long hair tied neatly in a bun.

"I'm glad to be back."

And that's the only signal she is waiting for before giving Ceci a tight hug that is pleasantly returned. Pulling away, the younger woman immediately carries her sister's luggage and hooks her arm around her companion. Ceci's advice of putting the luggage inside their house first falls onto deaf ears. Leading them away from the house, they trek the little distance across the street until they arrive infront of a wooden bungalow where a sign reading, "Fenette Knife Shop" hangs over the door.

"Good morning everyone!" is the ginger's bright greetings to the staff of the shop.

Too bright for this cloudy day, if someone asks one of them.

"My, you are a tad lively today, miss," a man, forty years of age with hair that shines blue under the non-existing sun, polishing a newly created bread knife, answers without turning to the newcomers. Lifting the cutlery above his eyes, he inspects for the littlest stain that could do great damage for business.

Shirley clears her throat and finally catches their shopkeeper's attention. And as soon as his sharp orange eyes land on their figures, the knife is immediately forgotten and is rather hastily hanged on the wall.

"Ceci!"

"And here I was thinking that knives have replaced me in your heart, Uncle Jeremiah," Ceci teases. They share a long welcoming hug, but not as long as what Shirley gave her earlier.

"Oh, that is as impossible as me finding a wife," he laughs, then in a voice much deeper than he just used, he shouts, "Rivalz! Nina! Gino! Ceci is home!"

Shirley wanders to the knife display behind the counter and lets Ceci's little reunion with the staff fill the background. After putting the luggage down on the floor, her fingers lightly touch the cold metals, feeling the smoothness and sharpness of their edges which have been familiar to her since she was a child.

"You look thinner than the last time you went home," Gino comments.

"Gino, that is such an impolite thing to say to a lady," Nina hisses.

"Well, I'm just worried if the viscount is being good to her."

"Everything is fine at the mansion. The viscount had just returned home yesterday after being away for two weeks for an official business with the earl."

"So," Uncle Jeremiah begins, "Did he tell you why the Britannia Household had stopped purchasing their silverwares from the shop?"

From the corner of Shirley's eyes, she sees Ceci's lips tightened as she shakes her head. "He had been occupied since he came back and didn't allow anyone to come to his study except for the twins. Is everything around here fine? Is the business doing well?"

"To be honest…" Shirley hears the surrender in her uncle's voice and the defeated aura from Gino and Nina is so strong she can feel it while her back is on them. In a reflex, the ginger grabs the knife infront of her and points it to her sister.

"Ceci, for old time's sake?" she challenges.

Ceci's golden eyes gaze worriedly back to the people infront of her. Her sister is overwhelmingly perceptive and Shirley is certain that she had already felt that there is something wrong in the shop. Well, if the full-packed knife display and empty shop didn't already give them away, the dead atmosphere would. So before everything would turn sour during the very first hour of her sister's visit, Shirley could only think of one thing to divert the mood.

After a few moments of contemplation, Ceci flashes them a quick smile and accepts her challenge.

Uncle Jeremiah flips the store sign to 'Closed', and together they all proceed to the back of the shop. There, a board marked with numbers and apples hangs on one wall. The rest of the group gather behind Ceci who stands fifteen feet from the board. Five sharp knives in hand, she throws one which neatly lands on the bull's eye. Gino whistles, impressed.

She throws another landing it next to the first knife. Then another, and another, all hitting the biggest score.

And the sight brings Shirley both pride and insecurity. For who would have thought that Britannia's proper and modest governess is a beast when it comes to handling and playing with cutleries? Who would have thought that her slender, candle-shaped hands possess a skill which rivals that of a trained assassin? Who would have thought that the woman whose life had been dedicated to caring and gentleness for children has a great love for sharp deadly objects that could end lives? What an irony.

Father, God bless his soul, had thought them of this skill. When Shirley was eight and Ceci was thirteen. It was a learning time that Mother, God bless her soul, too, was truly against but never stopped. Whenever Ceci was home, they would gather in the basement where they would spend an hour learning different types of knives. Father would teach them about their weights and how much strength should be applied when throwing certain types.

Father was a blacksmith, but in Shirley's young eyes, sometimes he became a circus performer.

Shirley is an average student, with a skill that was passable to stall some time during an attack. Ceci though, Ceci was a chameleon – absorbing the lessons like a second skin and wielding the knives like they were an extension of her arm. Shirley would train five days a week while Ceci only had a few days a month to learn tricks but still, the older girl emerged more skillful than her. Once she asked her if she secretly trained while in the mansion but Ceci immediately gave her a frightened expression enough to diminish the thought from Shirley's mind. So how, so why, was she this good and Shirley wasn't? Why was she always best at whatever she did and Shirley only average?

To be fair, Ceci never boasted about this. She never turned anything that they did together as competition. If anything else, she had always helped Shirley with things the latter found difficult to do. She is kind, she is patient. Truly fitted to be a governess.

And Shirley is left with the family business that she isn't good at. If not for Uncle Jeremiah's smarts and practicality, the shop would have been closed a long time ago. And she wouldn't forgive herself if that ever happens. She wouldn't forgive herself if she destroys her sister's dream.

The last knife easily lands on the wooden handle of the first one and the group cheers for the governess. After Gino removed the knives from the board, Shirley pulls out an apple from her pocket and stands infront of the board. She places the apple on top of her head and glances at Ceci.

"And now, for the finale."

She watches as the governess assumes the position. Heart racing, Shirley clutches the sides of her blue skirt as she anticipates the scenario. It's been three months since they last did this and the adrenaline coursing through her sharpens her excitement. She can hear Nina mumbling a prayer in the background but everything fades away when she sees the subtle smirk on her sister's lips. She smirks back.

And the knife flies and both women do not even blink.

And Shirley stands there, the apple on her head pinned against the board while Uncle Jeremiah, Gino and Nina rain Ceci praises. She searches for the pride she felt a while ago and is glad when it's still there. The insecurity, too.

But above all, when her sister escapes from their enthusiasm and quickly checks on her safety – hands patting her head, her cheeks, her shoulders, eyes roaming her face as if she's one of the children Ceci's taking care of – above all Shirley is always grateful to have her as her family.

* * *

"A sister and a brother?"

"Twins to be exact."

"You have a younger sister and a younger brother?"

The raven-haired man grunts in response as his drunk friend asks for the hundredth time tonight about the situation that his mother revealed and wanted for him to control earlier this week.

"Lelouch Lamperouge, the infamous bastard of the Lamperouge manor and a Cassanova taking care of adorable twins? That is enough to make me laugh for a century."

"You badly want for your tongue to be cut, huh, Luciano? I'll do it happily and slowly for you. And I would not be taking care of the twins, I will be there to take my inheritance then walk away. And most importantly, I am not Cassanova," he lazily ends. His right wrist mindlessly moves swirling the deep red alcohol in his cup.

Through beady grey eyes, his friend Luciano cracks a devilish smile as he gestures to his left. "Then who is this girl? I believe that she is not Kallen. What's your name?"

"My name's Christine. I've told you that earlier," the blonde girl haughtily says.

Lelouch squeezes her side which earns him a giggle. Pulling her closer to him, he buries his nose into the crook of her neck and inhales her overly-perfumed scent deeply. Another giggle.

"That tickles."

"I'm good at figuring out the ticklish parts," he whispers. "I can find every ticklish part of your body, if you'll allow me."

"O-Oh."

Luciano laughs as the girl turns into a human tomato. Lelouch pulls away and rests his head on the back of the chair. His half-lidded amethyst eyes wander around the pub. Disinterest shrouds them as he thinks of a certain redhead all furious and jealous when she discovers that her lover is spending time with other girls. Again. Well, she will understand. She always understands and she had already understood – that Lelouch Lamperouge wouldn't be tied down by a leash no matter how tight and unbreakable the leash is. That Lelouch Lamperouge is a man that every girl in their small village desires and he enjoys being desired. For it is not him who chases the girls but the other way around. And who is he to break their pure innocent hearts? He is a gentleman, after all. Or as gentle as he could be. They offer and he just accepts, although there are only certain ways he allowed them to be close to him. He is still a "faithful" man to his lover, there's that.

He gives Christine a chaste kiss on the lips before telling her to leave them for the night. Being chased is tiring as well, particularly if it happens every day.

"Just tell me if you are done with Kallen. I'll definitely take her."

The glare that he throws at Luciano is as dangerous and deadly as the pocket knife he is playing on his right hand now. The harsh glint of the silver glimmers in the dimly-lit room easily catching the fear of the blonde man.

"… Or not," Luciano weakly continues. "Well, let's go back to your problem, shall we?"

"My problem?"

"Are you going to follow your mother's wishes?"

Lelouch shrugs. "I better be. We both know how stubborn and insisting she can be when she does not get what she wants. Besides," he lifts his feet and rests his ankles on top of the table – a gesture his mother perpetually hates. "I have nothing to lose but more to gain if I succeed with this."

Crossing his arms, Luciano leans back and raises a brow at his friend. "So you'll just travel to the mansion, storm in the viscount's room and demand for your inheritance? Is it going to be that easy? What about the twins? I am certain that the viscount had already divided his properties and treasures among his  _legitimate_ children."

"They're just seven years old," Lelouch waves him off. "Barely an obstacle if you'll ask me. And mother has enough evidence to prove to the viscount that I am his first-borne."

"Well, I wish you luck with that."

Suddenly, Lelouch rises from his seat and his voice echoes in the room. All of the pub's patrons turn to him while Luciano covers his mouth as he tries to suppress his drunken laughter.

Arms wide spread, Lelouch dramatically gestures, "Father, oh Father, why have you forgotten about me, how dare you forget about me? I have longed for your warmth and affection, growing in this poor excuse of a village wondering where you were. Father, oh Father, please do not reject me for I am here to steal everything you have."

Boisterous applause reverberates in the atmosphere as his audience holler cheers and praises for his little show. He drinks in the intoxicating attention thrown at him. He is still bowing when Luciano grabs his shoulders and drags him out of the pub. The hot air does very little to sober them up but escaping the crowd of rowdy villagers helps lessen the headache that is growing behind Lelouch's eyes.

"You're mad. You've gone mad," Luciano says in between laughter, his body doubled over.

Fixing the collar of his coat and brushing away the stains on the fabric though he cannot do anything about the leftover lipstick stain, Lelouch looks down at his friend feeling all mighty and powerful like a prince ready to take over the enemy's kingdom.

"I have long been mad, Luciano. I am just good at hiding it."

And suddenly, the summer night turns chilling.

* * *

It is past eight in the evening when finally, the son enters the living room of the house. The conversation easily dies down as two pairs of eyes watch as he staggers into the room and slumps himself beside the redhead lady, immediately wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Hello Lelouch."

"Hello, Mother."

"Kallen and I were just talking about your departure tomorrow. I hope that you spent your last night here wisely."

The disheveled appearance of her son clearly tells her that wherever he spent the last few hours, he spent it somewhere indecent, and most probably, with his friend Bradley. And is that a woman's cheap perfume coming from him? The impudence of this young man to sit beside his lover while wearing the scent of another woman, good grief! But as much as she wants to reprimand him to act more proper and gentlemanly, Marianne does not dare to put Lelouch in a bad mood the night before he goes away to fulfil his mission.

Ah, his mission that will finally save them from this godforsaken place. If he succeeds in convincing the viscount, they will gain wealth that she only sees in her dreams, jewelry that every woman will envy, land that stretches until the ends of the world. Marianne will be a true lady of the house, no, of the mansion and it's all thanks for that one faithful night of meeting a young noble man twenty-two years ago.

Twenty-two years ago when she was living the life of a prostitute – shunned by the society, treated like an animal. When she only ate food thrown at her by her employer, spoilt and stale. When noble women spitted on her feet and noble men touched her when she didn't want to be touched.

But the viscount was a different man. Oh, he really was! As soon as he entered the room all those years ago, as soon as his melancholic amethyst eyes found hers in the crowded space, she knew that he was a dove among the crows.

But that was twenty-two years ago. She was past that stage of her life yet she isn't on the one where she badly wants to be.

So here is her last chance to fulfil her dreams – by using the sole product of her shameful past life. A little sacrifice from the years of swallowing her pride and bowing to the undeserving.

"I spent it," Lelouch shortly answers, already distracted by the woman next to him.

"I am expecting a lot from you, Lelouch."

"When did I ever disappoint you, Mother?"

_Everytime you forget how to act like a noble man, which is all the time_ , she wanted to say. But instead, she just shoos the lovers away, giving them enough time to say their good byes.

And Marianne, or Lady Marianne like she dreams to be called, sits alone in the living room and practices fluttering her eyelashes as a noble woman would.

* * *

"Lelouch, stop. Hold on, Lelouch."

"What is the matter, Kallen?"

His busy hands stop grabbing her waist, much more to his disappointment. Lips swollen, eyes dazed, he tries to focus on the beauty lying on his bed.

"You smell of woman's perfume," Kallen says with her head turned in disdain.

"Bradley and I went to the pub earlier."

"With another woman."

He shrugs.

The redhead is strong for her size so when she pushes him away, he bounces for a couple of times beside her. Certain that this night wouldn't turn out as he wanted it to be, he rests his arm of his eyes and sighs deeply.

"You are aware of my situation."

"You could just say 'no'. Is it too difficult for you to say no and consider my feelings, Lelouch?"

At the sound of despair in her voice, the young man turns to his side and gently caresses the woman's lovely face. She is the loveliest girl in the village with her tan skin and fiery hair. Other men envy him for being with her, while other woman are jealous of her for capturing his heart. Heads turn towards them whenever they walk together around town and he would be lying if he says that he didn't like the attention and how it made him feel more powerful and above them when they stare in awe.

But it is not just for show that he is with Kallen. He genuinely cares for the girl and the qualities that attracts Lelouch most are her strong will and convictions.

But tonight, she is showing him her vulnerability and he feels guilty.

Eyes lowered, he utters, "I am sorry."

A sigh. "You're always sorry. Listen…" this time, she turns to face him. "I understand that you are at that age where you seek adventures in your life, in your career, and even in bed. But Lelouch, you are no more a boy, but a man who has responsibilities, who has a significant lover and you cannot just prance around town charming every girl who lay her eyes on you."

"…"

"You must think of your reputation especially now that there is a possibility for you to be a nobleman. You must act accordingly to your status and – "

"You are sounding like my mother. Is this what afternoon teas with her does to you?"

"Lelouch!" She hits him on the chest.

He laughs. "I'm just jesting."

Suddenly, Kallen's eyes grow wary which makes him wary as well. Because Kallen is never wary. He is the one who is always wary of her strength and beliefs. "You'll probably find more beautiful girls in Britannia. Someone with more class, someone rich."

Lelouch frowns. He does not realize how the situation truly bothers her until now.

"Someone who can show you things that this little town of ours couldn't offer and you'll be swallowed by their world, taking you away from us… from me."

"That wouldn't happen. I am not going to stay there forever. As soon as I get my inheritance, I will come back here, to you. There may be a lot of girls out there, but no one can compare to your beauty."

"You're a terrible liar."

"But you still like me this way."

Pushing a stray hair from her face, his hand cups her cheek and lets it rest there. Kallen is someone very special to him. A childhood friend turned lover. Even though he is still uncertain if what he feels for her is actually love, he does not want to cause her more pain than he is giving her right now.

"Then promise me. You will never have an affair in Britannia and in anywhere you go, especially when you are away from me."

Eyes colored with the bluest water wait for his response. He hesitates for a second, then he nods, "I promise."

Finally, the woman sighs in relief and proceeds to bury her face on his chest. His arms automatically wrap around her slender body – an action that was embedded in him for years.

He promised, huh? His smile is that of a disappointment – at himself and at his future actions. Because he knows – Kallen and he both knows ever since childhood – that he can never hold his promises.

Well, this time, he might actually try to stop breaking his words and start fulfilling them. He just wonders how long he will last.

* * *

The reading time of the twins is disturbed by the sound of an arriving carriage. Surprised, they quickly abandon their work and peek through the large window.

"Young masters, Miss Ceci would be sad if you don't finish your work on time," their nanny says as she follows them to where they are standing.

"A carriage arrived, Miss Milly!" There's an excited glint on Nunnally's eyes.

"Is it Miss Ceci? Did she return here much earlier?" asks Rolo.

Ah, of course. Only two people could make the children this giddy. The viscount and the governess. But Milly didn't know that her friend had a change of plans and is set to return today. Looking over, her gaze follows the moving carriage until it stops infront of the doors. Someone alighted but they are not visible from the window.

Like a wind, the twins run past her, dashing through the corridors, and down to the grand stairs. Gasping, Milly catches up with them in the middle of the stairs and immediately grabs their arms as soon as she sees the viscount's back.

"Who is papa talking to?" inquires Nunnally.

"That's not Miss Ceci," adds Rolo.

Very much not their Miss Ceci. Milly narrows her eyes. It is a man. A man with silky black hair and piercing amethyst eyes that reminded her of someone. He wears a decent brown coat and tie but her meticulous eyes observe that they are not made of the finest material. Who is he? An unexpected guest of the viscount? The man's eyes find them and an unpleasant feeling washes over Milly. Yet the stare is quick and almost non-existent, and the man is back to talking to the viscount. Their voices are too low for them to hear, and oh, what are they still doing here eavesdropping? She should usher the twins back to the library and resume their reading. She will certainly hear an earful from Ceci if Nunnally forgets her consonants. But suddenly the people downstairs move. Rushed but silent, their feet shuffle over the carpeted floor. Milly stiffens when the viscount notices them and the gaze that he gives is one she had never seen before.

"Please look after the twins for a while. I will be in a very important meeting for a long time."

"Yes, my lord."

The viscount bestows his children an apologetic smile before resuming his walk. But the man… The man behind him stops infront of them and… is he sneering at the twins? Like a snake hissing at his prey? Milly immediately hides them behind her skirt.

"So you are the little Britannia twins?" His voice is deep and unkind. The question was thrown like an accusation. Milly knows that it is wrong to judge someone during their first meeting, but she couldn't help but judge right now. This man, he looks like he would only bring trouble, he looks like trouble himself. An influence that is bad for the younger ones.

Nunnally and Rolo look up at her, their eyes asking whether they should respond or not.

"Mr. Lamperouge?"

The trio is saved by the viscount. Giving them a last once over, Mr. Lamperouge finally follows the head of the mansion, leaving Milly and the twins frozen on their place.

"Who is he, Miss Milly? Is he papa's friend?" Rolo asks.

"Is he going to stay here for a while? I don't feel good around him," Nunnally worriedly declares.

Well, if her masters can feel the unwanted atmosphere that just succumbed them at their young age, it is only right for Milly to be apprehensive and cautious of the viscount's unknown guest.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Lelouch Lamperouge."

The viscount's eyes are glued to the letter in his hands that he misses the way the young man tips his chin up and grabs the lapels of his coat.

"What an interesting name."

"Mother gave it to me."

"Expected from an interesting woman."

Lelouch's eyes narrow at his words but chooses to bite his tongue from commenting something disrespectful.  _Be respectful_ , his mother had said before he left.  _Be patient. Be a good boy for once._

His eyes find the large portrait hanging behind the viscount's chair. It is a painting of a younger viscount and a woman who Lelouch assumes to be his wife. She had long wavy brown hair that reached her waist. Her skin was like milk and her eyes were honey. And a subtle smile rested on her lips as if she was thinking of something hilarious. Meanwhile, the young viscount whose hair was brown in the painting unlike the white nest he had right now, was looking all dignified and serious as he stared intensely at whoever was looking. Lelouch cannot help but compare him to the man sitting infront of him. The man who is supposed to be his father.

Or so what his mother said.

But as he stares longer at the man, he is becoming more convinced that the only similarity they share is their amethyst eyes. All of Lelouch's facial features clearly come from his mother. And one would say, even his amethyst eyes.

"Marianne Lamperouge, I remember her. A beautiful woman with big dreams. I think that was what attracted me when I met her. She talked about getting out of the brothel and pursuing her dream of being an actress. She explained everything to me in a very detailed way when my own life lacked direction. But… this simple letter and a photograph do not really prove that you are my son."

That's what Lelouch thinks, too. The bravado he had shown Luciano last night was all for show. At the very beginning, he was already skeptical. He would not put it past his mother to write a fake letter addressed to any nobleman telling him that Lelouch was their son if it will bring her wealth and jewelry. So why did he agree to do this?

Simple. Just like what he told Luciano, Marianne Lamperouge could be very insistent and demanding if she didn't get what she wanted. He is not up to hear her endless whines and complaints that could potentially drive him crazy. After all, he really has little to lose if this fails. Perhaps, a little bit of dignity. But when you are borne to a former prostitute like him, dignity is something that was already taken away before it was given. And Lelouch is used to live with the crumbs of dignity and respect scattered on the ground. He never picked them up.

But most importantly, as cliché as it sounds, he wants to bring a genuine smile to his mother's face. For once, he wants her to be proud of him. For once, he wants her to look at him as if he is a son she cherishes and loves truly. Not a reminder of her shameful past.

"That's all I have with me," Lelouch answers plainly. He shifts on his feet as he gets tired of standing. His mother should be proud with the restrain he is exerting right now. He badly wants to plop on the couch by the window and cross his legs.

"Hmmm… But why now? Why only now does she tell me about you? She could have gone here as soon as you were born. Why wait all these years? And why is she not here to directly address this?"

"I don't want to say this and mother told me not to mention about it either." Putting his hand over his forehead, Lelouch releases a dramatic sigh. "Mother is ill right now. She hasn't been able to get out of bed for weeks and…" He peeks at the viscount, checking for his reaction. The older man remains stoic but watchful. "… the truth is, she feels that she doesn't have much time left and her only wish before she," he chokes, "b-before she passes is that to see her family become complete." Retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket, he wipes his false tears. "And I want to fulfill her last wish."

Silence settles between them after his little act and Lelouch wonders if he had overdone it. When he was just a boy, he watched his mother act some plays in their tiny living room and she indeed had a talent for it. Just no opportunity.

Lelouch lets the viscount assess him with those critical violet eyes. He stands straighter, hands on his sides. In that little moment of examination, he feels the authority and intellect radiating from the man before him. Something tangible yet invisible. Something that makes him exhilarated and nervous at the same time. And Lelouch thinks, perhaps, he wants to be someone like him someday. Someone who has the ability to say a thousand words in a single stare. Someone who exudes power and intimidation just by sitting there silently.

Perhaps, in that brief time, an aspiration to be a nobleman starts to bloom within him.

"Well, then." The viscount folds the letter and puts it back to the envelope. "Since there is no other means to validate your connection to me, you must prove to me that you are my son and that you deserve a part of the inheritance. Prove to me that you deserve to be called a 'Britannia'."

"How will I do that?"

The viscount smirks and it looks so out of place on his face. Yet, Lelouch recognizes that smirk. He sees it when he looks at his reflection.

"That is for you to figure out. Now, let us discuss the terms of your living here."

* * *

He is bored.

He has been staring at the ceiling of his new room for hours, though, he would admit that this is a hundred times better than his room in his mother's house. The white bedsheets are exquisitely smooth. The bed and the pillows are so soft he had a crazy idea of them being stuffed with feathers. A huge window overlooks the garden which is in full bloom despite the cloudy weather. Lelouch sighs. It is the first thing that he couldn't believe when he arrived here. Back in their town, the sun was shining so bright that it left no corner dark and cold. But here… it is raining… during summer. And from the looks of it, it seems like it had been raining for days.

Ugh, he needs something to distract him from this dead atmosphere. He could roam around the mansion and inspect every room, but he was too tired from the long travel and got more exhausted from his conversation with the viscount.

But he is restless. His body itches to do something ridiculous - like riding a wild horse into the sunset without holding onto it. Or eating the spiciest meal the cook could serve. Closing his eyes, he tries to sleep the itch off but his efforts are futile. Then he realizes it. What his body craves. His eyes spring open and he immediately he gets up and leaves his room. Luckily, he finds a servant and asks him to get Lelouch a bottle of the finest wine in the mansion. The servant looks at him suspiciously before following his orders and a few minutes later, an opened bottle of the most aromatic wine he ever had is in Lelouch's hand as he walks mindlessly in the mansion.

The servants seem to be avoiding him which is fine by the man. He assumes that the viscount had oriented them of his presence what with the proper yet rather cold treatment that some of them had given him. Well, it doesn't matter. They're not the ones who he has to impress.

He is about to go up the grand staircase when he hears giggles coming from the first floor. Listening intently, his search leads him to the second living room where he finds two small figures sitting on the floor and laughing with each other.

"Well, who do we have here?"

At the sound of his voice, the twins stop playing and looks at him. The girl's eyes travel to the bottle in his hand and she moves closer to the boy.

"Hello, mister. How may I help you?" the boy asks politely as he stands infront of the girl.

Lelouch cocks his head and notices that there is someone missing. "Where is your nanny?"

"Miss Milly is in the kitchen preparing our snacks." Again with that polite tone.

"But she is coming back soon!" This comes from the girl.

"Hmm…" Calmly, he enters the room and makes himself comfortable on a chair. Crossing his legs, he takes a healthy swig of the wine before wiping his lips with the sleeve of his coat.

"Excuse me, mister. But I don't think that it is good to drink that in the afternoon," the girl says.

He glares at her. "And I don't think that it is your business what I should and shouldn't drink," he hisses. The twins cower before him. Sighing, Lelouch tries to talk to them in a calmer voice. "Sorry about that." He tips the bottle towards their direction. "As an apology, I'll let you take a sip?"

"But that's bad!"

"That's not for children!"

Noisy, whiny children. Lelouch rolls his eyes. "One sip wouldn't hurt you. And it will help you become an adult faster."

The boy shakes his head vehemently. "Miss Ceci told us that we could not drink that until we are as big as papa."

"Well, Miss Ceci is wrong."

"Miss Ceci is always right. She knows everything," the girl protests.

"Really? Well, does she know about me?" Oh, good grief, he is having fun taunting these children.

"O-Of course, she does." But their voices are weak and unsure.

Lelouch smirks at them. Pointing at the boy, he asks, "What's your name?"

"My name is Rolo vi Britannia, mister."

"And you?"

"My name is Nunnally vi Britannia."

Then he points at himself. "I am Lelouch Lamperouge. It is nice to meet you, now we are friends."

"Friends?" Nunnally's eyebrows furrow and Lelouch sees her strong resemblance with her mother. "But you are too big to be our friend."

"Did Miss Ceci teach you that as well?"

"No. But our friends, Leon and Anya are seven years old, too," answers Rolo.

Deliberately, he puts his hand over his chest and acts as if he is hurt. Head lowered, Lelouch matches this with a dejected tone of his voice. "How cruel. I… I just wanted to be friends with you. I don't know anyone in the mansion and I had hoped that we can get along together. But I guess I was wrong."

He peeks at them through his lashes and finds the twins anxious and contemplating. So for the final act he adds, "I wonder if Miss Ceci will be delighted to know that you've broken my fragile heart."

It amazes him how that simple statement greatly affected their behavior. Now, he is intrigue about who their Miss Ceci is. Another nanny? A teacher? Having an influence as strong as she has to this children proves that she might be someone of importance. Perhaps, the viscount's new lover? Hmmm. Lelouch hopes that it isn't the case for it means that there is another person that he needs to impress.

"We're sorry. We can be friends. Please do not tell her!" Rolo says.

"Please, Mister Lamperouge. We don't want her to be angry at us," Nunnally pleads.

Tapping his chin with the mouth of the bottle, Lelouch pretends that he is considering their appeals. The children look like they are about to cry and even he is not that cruel to make them weep so he answers, "Well then, I'll accept your apology if you agree to play a game with me."

"Play a game?"

He nods. Gesturing for them to come closer, Lelouch leans in as if he'll tell them a secret. "Let's play 'Hide and Seek'. I will be the 'it' and whoever I find first will take a sip of this wine." Before the children could react, he starts counting to ten sending them scampering out of the living room.

The nanny, Milly, finally arrives a few minutes later with a tray in her hands. A confused expression takes over her face when she didn't find the young masters where she had left them but instead, a man who is casually lounging on the couch with a bottle of wine in hand greets her.

"Are you looking for the twins?" Lelouch asks lazily.

The nanny nods. He admits, he finds her pretty. "By any chance, do you know where they are, mister?"

Lelouch points vaguely at the direction of the door. "They're playing 'Hide and Seek'. It's been quite some time since they are hiding, though."

Immediately, the nanny leaves the room to find her wards. Lelouch puts his feet up on the low center table and seriously thinks of how he can get his hands to this wine again.

* * *

She tends to dotes on everyone who are close to her heart. The twins, the shopkeepers, Milly (though she shows her affection in a subtle way so as to avoid the older woman's teasing). And now, she tries her hardest to shower her younger sister with affection during the little time that they have together.

"I'll cook dinner tonight," Ceci says as she secures Shirley's hair with a ribbon after braiding it. Fixing the ginger's fringe, Ceci stares at the mirror and marvels at the delicate beauty of her sister.

"You will cook?" Shirley laughs good-naturedly. "Oh please, spare me the wraths of Hell."

Ceci cannot help but glare, though it is rather short-lived. "Mr. Darlton has been teaching me to cook dishes during our free time and he had noted that my sense of taste had improved."

"Mr. Darlton, the head cook of the mansion?"

Ceci gives her a smug look on the mirror. "The one and only."

"Hmmm… Then I must try whatever it is you're going to prepare. Receiving such high regards from the best cook in the city is something that can't be swept under the rug."

"You won't regret it. Sit tight."

As Ceci goes to her luggage, she catches a glance of the grey sky outside of her room. Drizzle still comes occasionally but at least, the heavy rains have stopped pouring. She wonders how the twins are doing right now. The gloomy weather had put them in a sullen mood, or as sullen as their youthful energy would allow them. After all, they had been looking forward to summer since winter. Talks of running in the garden, outdoor playdates, summer outings, and horseback riding filled the cold corners of the mansion with giddy enthusiasm and high expectations. As a result, their slump had started to affect their studies. The contained energy in their small bodies is trying hard to be unleashed through various forms of distracted behavior stealing their focus on the task at hand.

And horseback riding...

The viscount had stood firm with his first decision to only let his children ride horses after reaching the age of ten when she talked to him yesterday. She can easily imagine their sad expressions when she delivers the unpleasant news.

Opening her luggage, she retrieves something wrapped in brown paper and gives it to Shirley.

Immediately, the latter opens her gift with childish excitement that quickly reminds Ceci of the twins.

"Oh, dear! This is so beautiful!"

Shirley stands up and holds the yellow dress infront of her. It is made of the softest fabric which reaches a few inches below her knees. The white frilly collar gives an air of youth, as well as the palm-size red ribbon resting in the middle. The fitted waist would show off the lady's small stomach but the Aline skirt would convey a sense of conservative femininity.

"Happy birthday, Shirley."

"I deeply love it, Ceci! Thank you, thank you. Oh dear, this is truly lovely... But didn't it cost you much?"

Ceci shakes her head. "I made it."

At this, Shirley runs her hand over the fabric as if she could feel the hours of sewing her sister dedicated to it. "Of course you did. I'll wear it later at dinner. Really, thank you."

"It's nothing compared to the responsibilities I left with you in managing the shop." Ceci shakes her head. "You should be spending your time with ladies your age, going to the park, taking suitors." Shirley blushes. "But you're stuck with keeping the business alive."

"Uncle Jeremiah and the others help me a lot. And being in the shop isn't that bad. Though, it does bore me when it is a slow day for business... Say, Ceci," utters Shirley, suddenly serious. She folds the dress neatly and places it on top of Ceci's bed. Going to her sister, she holds the older woman's hand and gazes into her eyes. "You lied earlier. You did talk to the viscount before you left, correct?"

For a moment, the greenhaired woman just stares at her sister. At this distance, Shirley's light freckles are visible. Her sister hated them when they were young but Ceci thought they made her look more adorable.

She nods. "I did." A sigh. "I tried to convince him to resume purchasing the household's cutlery from the shop, but..."Just thinking about the viscount's kind face as he denied her proposal kindly makes her want to laugh. What a tricky person. How can he be so gentle and cruel at the same time? It made her angrier. It made her feel more helpless about the situation. But she wouldn't back out. Their family and ancestors had been a slave to the Britannias for a long time now and Ceci wouldn't allow another of their blood succumb to a fate similar to hers. Not her future children. And especially, not Shirley's future children. They will live a life they chose for themselves and not one that was decided by debt and contract.

But how can she pay their debt if the business is slowly failing? She had observed how dead the shop is earlier. How almost all of the displays were full but dusty. She hoped that it was just because of the rain that people weren't able to visit the shop but the staff's faces sealed her suspicion.

And one of their biggest customer was the viscount. Isn't it ironic, Ceci thinks, that she was supposed to use his money to pay for her family's contract? But she can't even do that now.

"... but he's a stubborn man... Though, you should not worry yourself with that matter."

For a moment, it seems like Shirley wouldn't let the subject go and Ceci stands there already thinking of the excuses she could make, but thankfully, the former pats her hand and smiles. Then all of a sudden, Shirley reaches behind her head and removes the pin that was holding Ceci's hair up. Her emerald tresses fall around her like waters of the stream and the surprising act leaves her wide-eyed for a while. This is sort of a tradition always done by the younger sister whenever she is home. Shirley would always do it in a whim catching her off guard. Once she did it while Ceci was trimming the plants and she almost gave herself an uneven haircut.

"How are the twins doing?"

At the mention of her beloved wards, Ceci's face instantly lights up. "They are doing well. They are becoming wittier and cleverer as they grow. Nunnally has a wide imagination. Yesterday, we played as fairies that eat flowers while Rolo was the gardener. It was a bit of a chaos but it helped lift their moods. This endless rain has been a cause of agitation for them. They have been looking forward to this season since winter yet, days had passed without them stepping a foot out of the mansion."

"Well, I better pray for the sky to clear soon. I wouldn't want them to turn into lonely children deprived of their simple happiness."

Moments like this make Ceci wistful and guilty. Moments that remind her that Shirley was left to play alone while she learned every nook and corner of the Britannian household and tradition when they were children. They were almost strangers to each other back then with only their parents as their similarity. They were awkward, careful, and wary with each other's presence but as the older one, Ceci tried to understand why her little sister would stare at her with suspicion in her green eyes.

So she promised to herself that she would do everything necessary to not let their future children experience what they had felt. She wouldn't let them be deprived of their simple happiness.

"Thank you," she smiles. "But as much as I adore the twins, these days are to be spent with you. We're going to celebrate your 21st birthday for three days and you'll introduce me to your handsome suitors."

"I don't have any!" protests Shirley.

Ceci raises an eyebrow at her flustered appearance. Ah, but this is one of the few things that never changes between them. One of those that made them closer – how their first real conversation as sisters started. With her sister's transparent mood that is as bright as the sunshine and with her subtle ways of invoking certain feelings to the poor lady like a low magnitude earthquake.

And this is one of the things that Ceci hopes to stay with them forever.

* * *

Mister Lamperouge makes them feel uncomfortable.

Sometimes, he looks at them like they did something wrong. Sometimes, he looks angry and dangerous. Sometimes, he is lazy and messy. But most of the time, he looks at them like toys that he likes to play with.

The twins do not understand a man like him. They do not understand how his violet eyes that are similar to their father's could be sharp and cruel. They do not understand how his smooth deep voice could say words that are not gentlemanly and impolite. Nunnally and Rolo do not understand the games he wanted them to play, like the 'Hide and Seek' he started two days ago. They waited and waited for what felt like centuries for him to find them, but instead, it was Miss Milly who caught them. They'd never been more relieved than what they felt that time.

They cannot also comprehend why Mister Lamperouge would always interrupt their study time to say things that make Miss Milly bite her lower lip and her eyes scary. It's been days since he had arrived in the mansion and the twins wanted to tell their papa about this, but papa told them that Mister Lamperouge is a special guest who lives with them now, and they should treat him like he is family. Why papa said that, they do not know. Sometimes, they do not understand papa, too.

But perhaps, Miss Ceci will. She is the best after all. And… And she is supposed to return today! She would know what to do. And certainly, she could teach Mister Lamperouge good manners, too.

With that in mind, the twins patiently wait by the window for a certain carriage to arrive all the while happy with the fact that the sun finally shows itself outside.

* * *

So, the sun is actually out now, huh?

"Thank you, Michael."

Ceci steps out of the carriage, luggage in hand. As soon as her feet touch the even ground, her eyes land on a lone dark figure standing by the side of the mansion. Odd, how someone could look like a shadow under the glaring sun. Trudging forward, her eyes narrow as she tries to make out who the person could be. However, they widen as soon as she sees that he is smoking. It is a man unfamiliar to her. A man with deep raven hair clad in black clothes from head to toe. Who is he? A guest? A new servant of the house? She examines his appearance silently and concludes that despite his disheveled appearance, there is something in him that exudes a dirty kind of elegance.

He hasn't noticed her, too busy watching the smoke vanish in the air. When she is a few feet away from him, she stops and clears her throat. Finally, the man glances at her with those piercing amethyst eyes and she offhandedly notes that he is handsome. Too handsome if she will be honest but that is not the issue at hand.

"Good day, mister. I don't mean to disrespect but smoking is prohibited here. I am sorry but you have to throw your cigarette away."

The man just stares at her.

And continues to stare at her.

She tilts her head in confusion. Perhaps, he is a foreigner? She tries to speak in French but there is still no respond. She tries Russian yet he remains speechless.

Now, she is worried. Taking a step forward, she asks, "Mister, are you alright? Is there something wrong?"

Finally, the man gets out of his stupor and shakes his head as if he had just woke up from a dream. But before he could utter a word, two excited voices interrupt him from speaking.

"Miss Ceci, welcome back!"

The twins curtsy and bow infront of her before clinging to her red dress.

Patting their heads gently, Ceci greets, "Hello Nunnally, Rolo, I hope you've been good children while I was away."

"We are," they answer in unison.

"So you are the famous 'Miss Ceci'."

Ceci turns around to the sound of the deep voice and is surprised to know that it is from the man. It doesn't escape her notice how the twins' grip on her skirt tightens and how they hide behind her arms.

"Pardon?" she calmly asks.

The cigarette is back in his mouth and a mischievous smile is plastered on his lips. A wolf, Ceci thinks. A dangerous and tricky wolf.

But instead of answering her properly, the man removes his imaginary hat and says, "It's nice to finally meet you… Miss Ceci."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

She is immediately ushered to the viscount's office as soon as she stepped foot inside the mansion. With grumbling protests, the twins detached themselves from her skirt but not before promising them of a storytelling in the sun room later. And with an unsettled feeling, Ceci ignored the stranger who had uttered her name with part amusement and mockery in his voice.

"How was your vacation, Miss Corabelle?"

Ceci blinks at the name like it is something of common knowledge but often forgotten. It is only seldom does she hear that surname, and when she does, she falls in the middle of surprise and remembrance leaving her confused for a moment.

The viscount stirs his tea as he patiently waits for her answer. The veins in his hand is more prominent than when she had left meaning he had been doing manual labor around the land the past few days.

"It was well spent, sir. We celebrated my sister's 21st birthday merrily."

"Miss Shirley, is it? It's such a pity that I wasn't able to send a present for her. I shall prepare something as a late gift. I hope that she wouldn't take any offense from my carelessness and poor memory."

Ceci gives him a calculating look. This is one of his subtle tricks. The viscount, a man in mid-forties, with long silver hair tied neatly against his nape and a pair of kind amethyst eyes, is someone who shouldn't be taken according to his physical appearance. For as much altruism and prudence he exudes, a hidden trickster lies behind his kind mask. A trickster whose ways triumph on guilt and gratitude. She knows this very well. She had known this ever since she had been in his company when she was merely a child, and he was a young man of wealth and privilege. She had been warned about it by his late wife herself during one of those days that the lady invited her for a cup of tea in the garden. Of course, it was said with adoration and stars in her eyes.

"That would be thoughtful of you," begins Ceci, "but my sister was already grateful for the permission you've given me to come home and spend the special day with her. Any more form of extravagant gift might become too much for her humble heart."

"Hmmm," the viscount hums. "How is the shop, then?"

"It is alright," is her fast response, then without breaking eye contact, she lowers her head and adds, "although it would be deeply appreciated if the household would purchase its silverware again from the shop. The income it will generate will tremendously help expand our products and provide more incentives for the staff."

The chuckle that the viscount releases is that of harsh amusement and Ceci has to look away causing her eyes to land on the painting behind him. Help her patience, Lady Anne.

"I believe my stand on that matter has been clear. I cannot have you leave this mansion easily and  _early_. Anyway, enough of the mundane talk. I've called you here to discuss a very important matter."

"What is it that bothers you, sir?" she asks.

The viscount unexpectedly rises from his seat and stands before the window. With his back turned to her, his silhouette forms a long shadow which reminds Ceci of haunting towers.

"A young man claiming to be my firstborne came here three days ago and introduced himself."

"Pardon?"

"I will not bother you with the details but he brought such poor evidence to prove that he is indeed my son. However, I didn't easily brush off that possibility thus, I decided to give him a chance to show me that he is worthy to be called a 'Britannia'. "

Ceci was already lost after hearing the word 'firstborne' and speechless when he uttered the word 'possibility' rendering her silent throughout the viscount's speech, which the viscount interpreted as an invitation for him to continue.

"Therefore, I have a favor to ask of you."

"I shall hear it, sir."

When the viscount turns around, his eyes quickly meet hers and transfix their intense gaze on her face. Tilting her chin up, Ceci returns his stare with her own leveled one.

"The twins are not aware of the situation. He was introduced to them as a guest who would be staying in the mansion indefinitely. Rolo and Nunnally would likely develop an attachment to him as long as he is here and I want you to look after that development. If his claim is proven wrong, I want to spare the twins of heartache and loss for he will be banished from this place as soon as possible."

"I understand."

"At the same time, I ask you to be watchful of his behavior and attitude. You shall be my eyes when my presence is scarce."

"You're asking me to be a spy?"

"Yes," he deadpans. "For I will do everything to preserve the legacy and honor of this family. Nothing and no one shall taint the pristine image of the Britannias as long as I am alive. Your loyalty lies with us, correct?"

But that legacy involves Britannia's ownership of the Fenettes, Ceci thinks but dares not to speak the words. Instead, she nods solemnly, "I shall do what is necessary."

"Thank you... Now, I believe that it's time for you to meet him."

The servant enters the room as soon as the viscount rings the bell. After receiving the master's orders, he leaves the study and returns with someone whose face is freshly embedded in Ceci's mind.

"Good day," the stranger greets.

Gesturing at him, the viscount says, "This is Mr. Lelouch Lamperouge. Mr. Lamperouge, this is Miss Ceci Corabelle, the governess of the house."

The man, who at a closer look seems to be a couple of years younger than her, closes the distance between them, holds her right hand and gently brings it to his lips. His lips linger on her skin like a foreign tickle as he speaks, "A pleasure to meet a lovely lady like you."

Ceci bestows him a polite smile as she slowly takes her hand back. "A pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. Lamperouge."

"Mr. Lamperouge..."

"Please, sir, just call me 'Lelouch'," Mr. Lamperouge says with a chuckle - a chuckle that is very much similar with the viscount's, Ceci notes. "You, too, Miss Corabelle. Back in my little town, I grew up without being addressed as if I've saved a hundred souls from Hell. So all this formality is all sorts of new to me."

Ceci would have believed his sincerity if not for the humility in his message getting overshadowed by the pompous tone of his voice and the glimmer of mockery in his eyes as if his statement is more of a challenge than an honest offer. As if he is trying to break the system established instead of following traditions. Ceci finds it quite brave of him considering his newness in the residence.

Jutting her chin out, she replies, "I shall try my hardest then, though I cannot promise anything for where I grew up, we were taught to address people with proper courtesy."

"Do you also address people with contempt?" he prompts.

She gives him a light, friendly smile. "Whichever you are pertaining about, Mr. Lamperouge?"

The tension is only broken when the viscount clears his throat. She almost forgot that they had an audience, that the master of the house is right infront of them hearing every word they say.

"It looks like you are getting acquainted with each other well. Mr. Lamperouge, I'm afraid that I have to stick with addressing you like this. This is part of your test. And Miss Corabelle, please assist him as he adjusts to his surroundings. I have to excuse myself for I have documents awaiting to be perused."

"Yes, sir."

As soon as they are out of the study, Ceci makes her way to the sun room where the twins and Milly are waiting for her. She makes her way silently just like how it has always been but only to be trailed by someone this time.

* * *

She is beautiful.

She is the first rose to bloom during spring, the crystal dew on a leaf at the break of dawn, the golden sunset by the sea, the lone swan on the lake.

She is the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life and he couldn't stop staring.

He had thought he was going mad earlier when he first saw her at the pathway, because how could a porcelain doll be alive and talk to him? How could a porcelain doll possess such calm, feathery voice and stunning golden eyes that seem to pierce through his soul? And when she took a step forward towards him? He held his breath.

When the twins spoke of their Miss Ceci, a woman much older than him was what came to Lelouch's mind. A mother-like woman with a sprinkle of silver in her hair and wrinkles of experience on her face. Not… Not the one who is walking infront of him right now.

Not a goddess.

"How old are you?" he asks before he can stop himself.

"Isn't it a bit impolite to ask a woman her age?" she answers without looking back.

He shrugs as he stares at her smooth white nape. He is starting to get annoyed with himself so he looks away and tries to find a distraction in the hallway. There, that painting of a man looks ridiculous.

"The twins wouldn't stop talking about you as if you are the bearer of God's good news, so I thought, Miss Ceci must be someone who had aged well like an exquisite wine. Someone whose silver hair is forged by her experiences and knowledge."

He almost collide against her when she suddenly turns around. A defiant look shrouds her eyes as she looks up at him. "Well, I wouldn't apologize for breaking your expectations, Mr. Lamperouge. You have to accept my plainness and green hair." With that, she turns away and resumes walking.

"I didn't say that you were plain, Miss Corabelle," he chuckles as he shakes his head. She is far from being plain. "I am twenty-two."

It takes several corners and a set of stairs before she tilts her head and considers his question. But Lelouch is a patient man, especially with lovely women. "I am older than you."

He laughs. "Oh, don't jest."

"I am not lying, Mr. Lamperouge."

His eyes narrow as he examines her figure. If she had said that they are of the same age, he would have believed her. He would even be convinced that she is telling the truth if she answered a lower age than his. But older? There is no way that this woman with her narrow shoulders, a height that only reaches below his chin, blushing skin and youthful glow is older than him. She looks younger than half of the women's population in his town. Even younger than Kallen.

Kallen. He has Kallen. What is he doing appraising another woman when he promised to be loyal to his lover?

Finally, they reach where the twins are staying. Nunnally and Rolo's faces instantly light up as soon as they see their beloved governess, completely ignoring his presence. Lelouch makes himself comfortable on a seat by the window.

"Papa bought us a new book. Let's read it, please?"

"Of course, Rolo, Let me see… Once upon a time…"

He ignores their enthusiastic voices until they are background noises, until they turn into white noise and contemplates on what he should do next. So far, the days he is in the mansion are uneventful. It is bothering him, how he should convince the viscount that they are blood-related when he has no resources to use and spend. He had brought some money with him, but it is an amount only enough for emergencies, not for building business that will capture the viscount's attention. He does not know anyone in this place. His 'siblings' are strangers to him. He had spent all his time wandering aimlessly in the mansion and he is getting tired of it. How can he attain the viscount's favor? And how can he get it fast so that he can return to his home at once?

Admittedly, he misses his mother and her constant nagging about proper etiquette. He even misses Bradley's tasteless bragging and pride. But most importantly, he misses Kallen's kisses. He groans at his miserable thoughts. He is a pathetic man, he doesn't even want to look at himself right now.

Reaching beneath the seat, his hand searches for the bottle of wine that he hid there yesterday. Fixing his position, he rests his ankles on the table as he takes a long gulp of the liquor. This is a different brand but it is delicious as well.

Suddenly, someone clears their throat.

"Mr. Lamperouge?"

He smiles at the mouth of the bottle, then he drinks again.

"Mr. Lamperouge." This time, the voice is firmer.

"Yes, Miss Corabelle? What can I do for you?" he innocently inquires.

"He always did that while you're away," Nunnally whispers loud enough for him to hear it.

"We told him that it is bad but Mr. Lamperouge wouldn't listen," adds Rolo.

Lelouch glares at the twins, but unlike before, they do not cower. It's as if a new resolve had washed over them making them brave and unafraid. He glances behind them and finds Miss Corabelle gazing at him. Ah, so that's where their courage comes from. It amazes him, really, the power that she holds over the children.

"You are such little gossips," he sneers.

"Mr. Lamperouge, may I have a word?"

He slowly gets up from the seat and follows the governess outside of the room, bottle still in hand.

"Young masters, please stay here," he hears the nanny ask them.

"Will Miss Ceci scold him?" this coming from Nunnally.

Their Miss Ceci leads him to a separate room that overlooks the little bridge over the small pond. He hadn't explored that part of the garden yet. Might as well do that later for it looks like something is being built over there. Foundations were already established and a number of men are working together.

In the room they are in, a grand piano sits at the center with a luxurious chandelier hanging over it. On one corner are three cellos and on the other end is a large harp that he only saw with angel figurines. For Lelouch, seeing it in person is quite disorienting.

They're inside the Music Room.

"The viscount had told me about your situation, Mr. Lamperouge," Miss Corabelle starts.

"Did he now?" he raises an eyebrow.

"I am in no position to judge whether you spoke of truth or not, but as the governess, I would deeply appreciate it if you poses as a good example for the twins. After all, you may or may not be their older brother. Smoking is prohibited within the vicinity of the mansion. Drinking carelessly infront of them is something that is unsightly and please refrain from putting your feet on the table."

Narrowing his eyes, he takes a step towards her. She does not back down. "Are you lecturing me, Miss Corabelle?" he asks in a low voice.

"I believe," she intones, "that you are  _old_  enough to know how to act properly in public. Now, if you may excuse me." Her shoulder brushes against him as she passes by Lelouch.

Did she just insult him? Does she think that she is superior because she practices courtesy and manners all the time? He knows a lot of people who call themselves nobles but have hideous agenda in their hearts. Formalities is just an instrument to mask the monster of greed in their hearts in order to live harmoniously with the ignorant and hopeless souls.

"You are not  _my_ governess to tell me what to do," he counters.

A few steps away from the doorway, Miss Corabelle turns around and gives him that same stubborn gaze that she bestows him earlier. Those golden eyes are too expressive for such a cold woman. She stands there in her black dress, hands clasped over her stomach like the saint that she is.

"And you are not  _yet_ a 'Britannia' to act like the master of the house."

"Are you declaring war against me?"

Ever so slowly – almost taunting, a mockery – a biting smile appears on her pink lips. "Mr. Lamperouge, war has no place in this estate."

And she leaves.

Lelouch is left in the music room chasing her ghost, surprised and speechless. But oh, so, so entertained. A bubble of laughter begins stirring in his chest until it escapes like a prisoner longing for his freedom. He laughs there, alone, until tears burn in his eyes. He had never encountered a woman like her before. A woman who attacks with wit, poise, and venom. A woman so terrifyingly beautiful and smart he is easily captivated.

Ceci Corabelle, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. But in that brief time they spent together, he learns that that beauty comes with poison. That beauty is as frigid as winter.

He is not wrong when he said that she is the first rose to bloom in spring, but Ceci Corabelle is also the snow that kills the rose with her frost.

* * *

"I'm sorry for I wasn't able to warn you about him," Milly apologizes as soon as they exit the twins' room that night. "It happened so abrupt. No one knew where he came from, nor his family. 'Lamperouge' is a name we had never encountered in this mansion before so everyone was confused why this stranger was suddenly given the best treatment as per the viscount's orders."

Ceci lifts the lamp illuminating the hallway infront of them. "Who knows his true story?"

"Well, you, me, and Mr. Waldstein. The rest, they were told that he is a very important guest who will be staying here for a while."

She nods. "Tell me what happened while I was away."

"The children were scared of him."

"Because?"

"Because of the way he speaks and acts. During the day he arrived, Nunnally told me that he offered them to drink wine with him."

The grip Ceci gives Milly's arm is tight enough to stop the latter's blood from circulating. Wide eyed, she gasps, "He didn't!"

Milly shakes her head. "Unfortunately, he did. Of course, the twins protested and told him all of your lectures. But then, Mr. Lamperouge made them play 'Hide and Seek' with him. And whoever he finds first would take a sip of the wine."

Ceci is completely aghast now, her mouth hanging open. "And then?"

"Just in time, I returned from preparing their food only to find the living room empty except for Mr. Lamperouge. I was looking for about ten minutes before I finally found them hiding under the piano. And who knew how long they've been hiding down there."

"Good heavens, my sweet angels."

"The following days were filled with Mr. Lamperouge's taunts and sneers against the twins. He would interrupt our study time or join the twins in their games, which would eventually turn into  _his_ games. I don't know why he is hostile against them. They are just children, for Heaven's sake!"

Ceci bites her lips to avoid spouting curses and unladylike phrases but she is fuming. She cannot believe that she felt guilty about the way she had treated him a while ago. She even thought that she had been too cold and cross with him and was ready to apologize for her behavior tomorrow, but hearing all of these now, hearing how he terrified her beloved children while she was away, thinking how powerless they must have felt, she wishes that she had said more to make him aware of his place in the mansion.

No one will be able to hurt Nunnally and Rolo as long as she is here. She wouldn't let a stranger, no matter who they are, trample their feelings and stain their pure hearts. They are the only reason why she is still staying in this place – why she is willing to extend her stay in the mansion and put off paying the contract fully. She will stay here until they reach the right age to stand on their own, until they are sent off to boarding schools where they will grow into a fine lady and a gentleman.

But as long as they are under her care, Ceci will do anything to protect them.

Milly pulls her as she almost bump against a corner. They turn left and navigate the dark hallway. "But it's such a great loss!" the nanny cries.

"What is?"

The nanny slaps her own forehead. "He is so handsome! Have you seen those eyes? They're like the clearest and most expensive diamonds! Just looking at his disheveled hair makes me want to run my fingers through it. I bet they would be soft as feathers. And when he smirks, good grief, any angel would fall from Heaven just to worship those lips."

"His pretty appearance is quite useless if his attitude is as bad as a rotten apple," Ceci grumbles.

"I know," Milly sighs.

But that is the one thing Ceci cannot deny. Mr. Lamperouge is indeed a handsome young man. The first time that she saw him smoking, she thought of a prince – an exiled prince for that matter. His longish raven hair looks like the most expensive silk under the bright sun. His high nose exudes nobility and authority. Cheekbones that look like they are sculpted from marbles and lips that hold mischievousness and recklessness. But most of all, those amethyst eyes. They glimmer. They spark. They hold forbidden secrets. Ceci had summon all of her control to avoid being mesmerized by those gems as she talked to him earlier and she thought she did well. But it was a hard fit, especially with the way he had stared at her throughout the whole time – as if he was trying to figure her out, as if he was enjoying himself. It is odd, how their short encounter had already left her breathless and exhausted for the day.

Both women continue to trudge the hallway with hushed voices, careful not to awaken the other residents of the mansion. Ceci laughs and comments on each of Milly' entertaining stories, but at the back of her head, a worry for what tomorrow would bring to her, the twins, and the dark stranger is already growing like a seed breaking into a plant.

* * *

Dinner earlier is worse than yesterday.

Actually, he becomes more and more uncomfortable each time he joins them for dinner.

The way the viscount doted on his children as the twins beamed and giggled at him was sickeningly sweet he had to focus on eating his food just to avoid the sight before him. Because he never had that in their home. His mother never doted on him like a mother would on her only son. Marianne loves him in her own strange way, or he likes to think so. She never explicitly showed that she was proud or fond of him unless he was praised by other people for his handsome looks and intellect which she would easily claim that he inherited from her.

Instead, what he often got from his mother were endless admonishment for his willful attitude and resentful glares from the other side of the table whenever he got himself into trouble. Troubles with women, with alcohol, with the whole town. Of course, he had tried to impress her before. He had tried to be a good boy who she could be proud of – who she could love wholeheartedly and erase the pain of her past. But his efforts were not enough and as time went by, his young heart had gotten tired of seeking the attention she refused to give him. So he decided to live his life as he wanted it to be. He stopped pretending to be a good boy and became someone who wouldn't regret a single moment of his life. He started spending time with Bradley and his reckless ideas. He started entertaining women's attention that was willingly given to him. He started drinking in any occasion, and even without occasion. And much to his surprise, that had gotten his mother's attention, as bad as it was.

But here, it seems like he has to go back to pretending as a good man in order to get the viscount's trust. Look how fate is playing him.

" _I've been thinking if I can be of any help to you, sir," he offered during dinner interrupting the merry moment of the three._

" _Help?" the viscount echoed curiously._

" _Yes. I actually had nothing else to do and it is such a regret that a lot of time had been wasted with only me roaming around the mansion like a ghost."_

" _Well, we are building a gazebo by the little pond. Perhaps, you can lend us a hand with the labor."_

" _You're directly involved with the work?" Lelouch asked, surprised._

_It was Rolo who answered. "Papa is good at building things. He made Nunnally a dollhouse as a gift for our sixth birthday."_

" _And it is the strongest dollhouse ever made. Anya's dollhouse, which was bought at the same time as mine, is already in their attic because the roof had holes," added Nunnally._

_He smirked at the twins before facing the viscount again. "Then it would be a pleasure to help you. It will also be a good time to get to know each other more, isn't it?"_

_The viscount nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed."_

" _Can we help, too?"_

_The viscount turned to his young son and said,_ " _Hmmm… Yes, you can, Rolo. But not until you are done with your lessons with Miss Ceci."_

" _Oh, oh! Can Miss Ceci help, too, Father?"_

" _We can ask her. But we don't want to tire her that much, Nunnally."_

" _I'll ask her!"_

" _Speaking of the governess, where is Miss Corabelle? Why isn't she here with us for dinner?" The absence of the governess had been bugging Lelouch since the dinner started. He had expected that she would be eating with them because she was the guardian of the children and all, but his assumption was disappointingly proven wrong._

" _Miss Corabelle does not eat with us," the viscount answered before taking a sip of his water._

" _Why?"_

" _Because she is not mama," the twins automatically declared as if they had answered the same question many times._

_The vague answer confused him more but he didn't push for other information. After all, he didn't grew up in a house with a governess so he wasn't really knowledgeable about the how things work with homes with governesses. Perhaps, it's a tradition? A policy?_

So tomorrow, he will be spending time with the viscount at last. With those little elves around. Lelouch puts his arm over his eyes and smiles to himself as he lies on his bed. He hears voices pass by his room but he ignores them as he muses about what tomorrow would bring.

It would certainly be an interesting day. A day to wear a mask that he had long kept away in the vaults of his childhood. He wonders if this time, he would be able to capture his trust. He wonders if this time, he wouldn't fail to capture their affection.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The Britannia Estate stretches for a good three thousand acres on the northeast of England where the continental polar air shrouds the area with cool climate throughout the whole year. The main residence sits on top of a small hill and is surrounded by a designed landscape that is big enough to showcase the grandness of the bricked mansion. A stone wall enclosing the land from the village creates a low border between the nobles and the ordinary people. Inside the estate is a home farm that enables the mansion to be self-sufficient, a kitchen garden where rare spices and herbs are planted for the family's consumption, several gardens and lawns (even a maze garden) planted with the most colorful and aromatic flowers, a woodland for the rearing of game and a wide variety of outoffices for the housing of animals and for the utilization of the estate's other employees.

Summer here is quite different from the scorching hot temperature that the lower lands experience during the season. The cool air gives the residences a pleasant friendly climate that allows them to feel at ease and comfortable while doing their activities.

Very much different from the southern town Lelouch grew up in where the sun rays were harsh, almost punishing to the skin, leaving it red and warm for the most part of the days.

And now, an additional symbol of wealth will be added to the estate.

The viscount, much to Lelouch's disbelief, is indeed pretty much involved in the building of the gazeebo. Bare hands, leather boots, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, one could easily mistake him as an ordinary worker if not for the authority and nobility he exudes while digging the land.

"What work do you do back in your town?"

Lelouch looks up from where he is sawing wood and answers, "I paint, sir."

"A painter? Do you have any particular subject?" A surprise glint appears on the older man's eyes which Lelouch is already used to get from people who first heard of his job. It is an unexpected answer, they said, for someone who has a face and charisma like him, they would have assumed that he is an actor, a performer.

"Well, I mostly do portraits of people. Sometimes, I paint sceneries, too, when inspiration hits me."

"And does inspiration often hit you?" the viscount asks curiously. His shovel hits a large stone and the man grunts and groans while trying to lift the unwanted nuisance.

Lelouch immediately abandons his work and helps the viscount with his problem. Shovel and hands, they successfully remove the stone and pile it together with the other large stones that the workers have collected.

"Inspiration is a wild thing," starts Lelouch as he wipes his hands with a towel. He retrieves his saw and resumes cutting wood. A few tendrils of his raven hair manage to escape his hairtie and he now regrets not securing his long fringe in a pin. "It comes and goes like a lightning."

"Lightning? How so?"

"There is a long unbearable moment of silence when I am uninspired. Silence in my mind, silence in my heart, in my soul. The kind of silence that is unsettling and foreboding like the calm before the storm." He frowns at the thought. "I honestly despise that feeling. It makes me feel directionless, purposeless. As if my skill as a painter is something impermanent that disappears overnight. But when lightning strikes, everything turns bright," he chuckles and shakes his head. "It is rather amazing how that brief moment could rumble and light up my sleeping desires long enough for me to finish a painting. But sadly, not every storm brings lightning."

The viscount nods. "Such an interesting comparison. However, isn't art, as long as it comes from your heart, beautiful and important?"

"I think that is a bit of romanticization."

"But that is how a breathtaking painting is created, how a heartbreaking poem is written, how art is borne - by romanticizing feelings, scenarios, people. To produce art is to find beauty even in the darkest and most painful subjects.'

"Yet there are famous artists and there are the ones who are like me. It's not all about the heart, skills is quite fundamental to be a successful artist," Lelouch shrugs.

"You want to be famous."

"I want my works to be recognized, too. Is that a bad thing?"

The viscount shakes his head. He stops digging and rests his arm on the handle of the shovel. Underneath the bright sky, his possible father looks younger and stronger while being surrounded by woods, stones and dirts. It's the enthusiasm for building that makes him look like that, Lelouch realizes. The noble is unexpectedly a man of hard and manual labor.

"No. It is actually good that you have a dream to pursue which keeps you striving to become better. A man with dreams and actions is the most dangerous man on earth... I would like to see your works in the future."

"I would've loved to, but I'm afraid I didn't bring my things with me."

"Because you expected that you won't be staying here for a long time."

"Papa!"

Suddenly, two little figures come running towards them and a flurry of brown hairs stop right before the viscount with excited smiles and giddy energy.

"Are you done with your lessons?"

"Yes, we are!"

Lelouch's eyes quickly dart behind them and as expected, their lovely governess is at their trail with three notebooks in her hands. Their eyes briefly met before the golden pair addresses their master.

"We finished the piano and arithmetic lessons without any trouble, sir. They are now on their well-deserved break."

Lelouch puts his saw down and inserts a soft twig in between his teeth. Observing, he sits on one of the chairs prepared for the noble family and silently watch the interaction before him.

The viscount squats to his children's heights. "And how are your progress?"

"I can now add hundreds while Rolo can play the beginning of a sonata," Nunnally proudly reports.

"Hmmm… It seems like you deserve a reward for being good pupils. We shall have an outing this weekend to celebrate your achievements."

"Oh, can we watch the circus?"

"Can we watch the play?"

The father chuckles. "We'll see what is available according to the schedule. Mr. Lamperouge, would you like to join us?"

The younger man's eyes drift to the wary soft purple ones. They didn't expect their father to invite him and they didn't like it. Nunnally is biting her lip while Rolo is fidgeting on his place. He gives them a subtle smirk before answering the viscount without breaking eye contact with the twins. "I would've loved to…" Oh, teasing them brings him such enjoyment. They are already frowning before he even finishes his sentence. "But my apologies for I have prior commitments that needed to be done this weekend."

The twins exhale.

He feels a burning sensation on the side of his face and when he turns to his left, the glare that the governess sends him is both a warning and a challenge. Can she sense it? Of course she would. She is deeply connected to the twins after all, and most probably, her charges or perhaps the nanny have already mentioned something about the tricks he had done with the children when she was away.

"Now, how will you help me?"

Miss Corabelle distributes the sketchbooks, now that Lelouch has a closer look at them, to the twins.

Rolo speaks, "We're going to help design the gazeebo."

Wise decision. With this, the twins wouldn't dirty themselves from being involved to the actual labor all the while believing that they are being a great help to their father. At the same time, it will hone the twins' imagination and art skills. He sneaks a glance at Miss Corabelle. This is definitely her doing.

The governess and the twins sit on the grass and silently draw their designs. Meanwhile, Lelouch and the viscount resume their work and to be honest, the former is quite enjoying the simplicity of the atmosphere. The manual work reminds him of his hometown, where servants and maids are scarce and the villagers do their chores by themselves. He lives in a place that is neither rich to be lived by the nobilities nor too poor to be resided by beggars. He wonders what they are doing right now. His mother is probably having an afternoon tea with Kallen in their small garden – talking about him, his careless attitude, the inheritance and marriage – while Bradley must be hunting for an innocent lady to charm with his flat jokes. He should write them a letter. It's almost a week since he arrived in the Britannia residence and it's about time to report to his mother. With Lady Marianne's stubborn and insistent personality, Lelouch wouldn't put it past his mother to go to the mansion herself if she does not hear from him for a few more days. Just the thought of it brings chills to his bones. Might as well prevent the drama she is capable of causing.

"Mr. Lamperouge?"

"Yes sir?"

"Why don't you draw a design, too? It's a good chance to show us how good you are at drawing."

"But what would I use?"

"You can use my things."

Like a nymph, Miss Corabelle gracefully walks to him and hands him her sketchbook and pencil. Eyes shining with mischief, he purposefully overlaps his hand over hers as he retrieves them from her.

"That is so generous of you, Miss Corabelle," he whispers.

"Well, I cannot let you look like a fool while you try to draw on air or worse, snatch the children's sketchbooks for your entertainment," she whispers back. She steps away and lets her hands fall back on her sides.

Lelouch's lips barely move but his words are spoken low and clear. "I wouldn't do that infront of the viscount."

"And not infront of me."

With that, the governess gives him a steady gaze before returning to her place between the twins. Lelouch sits back to his seat and begins sketching intricate designs that he thinks would impress the viscount. He doesn't know where this talent of his came from. Definitely not from his mother whose drawings are comparable to a child's. Nevertheless, he is thankful for it because it had become a means of decent income and a pleasant way to impress the ladies.

The atmosphere is soon filled with the sound of pencil against paper and hushed voices of the carpenters who are continuously working on the gazeebo. Lelouch can clearly see it, how this place will be the new center of merriment, celebration, outdoor picnics and even hidden courtships. He can clearly see how this gazeebo would transform into a dove's cage with vines and flowers crawling on its railings like ornamented chains of trapped beauty and hopeful promises. However, this gazeebo could be a sanctuary for the lost, broken souls, too. A place where one would seek refuge in the depth of the night reminiscing the times that have gone by and left uncherished under the lonely moonlight. These musings all take root in his hand as every stroke, every line create shapes and connections until an image begins to bloom on his paper.

Look at him being a romantic. Look at him being the epitome of what the viscount had said about creating art.

And he's done.

"I'm done!"

Rolo walks to his father and proudly presents to him his masterpiece. Meanwhile, Lelouch had also made his way to the viscount and is now examining the boy's drawing.

Huh, it's not actually bad for a seven-year old. In fact, it is too good to be drawn by a young boy like him. It reminds Lelouch of his past drawings when he was at Rolo's age. Glancing at the elf, he can't help but see himself in Rolo as he waited for his mother's appraisal of his drawing. Wide eyed, nervous but excited. Yet Marianne was never a person of art except for acting and she never appreciated whatever a young Lelouch would show to her.

"This is amazing, Rolo. You have a gift in drawing," the viscount praises. "What do you think, Mr. Lamperouge?"

"It is quite indeed impressive for a boy as young as him," he answers honestly. "Where did you learn to draw like that?"

With Lelouch's attention suddenly on him, Rolo stands closer to his father. "Miss Ceci teaches us how to draw properly."

Of course, of course. Who else would? Indeed, it would be their know-it-all Miss Ceci. Automatically, Lelouch opens the sketchbook in his hand and turns the page to the drawing before his. Then he looks up at the governess who is busy guiding her other charge.

What a lovely trouble.

"And where is yours, Mr. Lamperouge?"

"Here."

Now, he is a little bit nervous. The viscount's critical eyes inspect his design with deep concentration. A furrow appears on his forehead as he traces each line of his sketch. Lelouch is a good painter, but he can admit that he is not the best and that there others who are far better than him. But he had been so confident earlier while talking about arts that he is now worried that he had somehow sold himself more than his actual cost. It would be a blow to his ego if the viscount disapproved of his design.

"Mr. Lamperouge," the viscount murmurs.

"Yes, sir?" he nervously asks. From his peripheral vision, he can see that Nunnally and Miss Corabelle are now rising from their seats.

Gazing up at him, the amazed look on viscount's face is slow to register in Lelouch's mind. "This is breathtaking. I can actually see it here, sitting in the middle of this garden, being the centerpiece of this land. A place where humans and nature could peacefully exist together."

"R-Really?"

The viscount nods then stands. He rests his hand on Lelouch's shoulder and gives it an affirming squeeze. "I would like to use this for my gazeebo, Mr. Lamperouge."

"You can use it by all means, sir," is his fast reply.

Lelouch's chest deflates in relief. So this is how it feels like. This is how it feels like to receive the acceptance and approval you are seeking from someone. It feels like flying, like floating on the river. It feels like a lightning of inspiration hitting him, electrifying his core making his nerves buzz, his heart race, and his pride inflates. And with the praise coming from a man who is undeniably experienced and knowledgeable, it makes his words more meaningful and important.

Lelouch likes this feeling. He wants to get used to this feeling.

Their voices fall in his ears like feathers - soft, light, and unnoticeable - as his gaze stays at the viscount with admiration.

If this man is really his father, then he could get more of his kind words in the future. More of his encouragement and support.

If this man turns out to be his real father, Lelouch's worries about being accepted and appreciated will become less and pointless.

He watches the viscount interact with his children just like how he did last night during dinner - with adoration and gentleness.

Oh, mother, he is starting to hope that you are indeed telling the truth.

* * *

"Is it the truth that you spoke of?"

Marianne gives her companion an ambiguous smile as she continues to stir her tea. "It is what I believe the truth."

The redhead folds her arms infront of her and huffs. Well, Marianne couldn't blame Kallen. Her claim of Lelouch being the first borne of the viscount is as hazy as a mud filled water. There is no other means to prove that he is truly blood-related to the noble aside from the memory of the night they shared together in the brothel. But still, Marianne wants to believe that it is the case. Especially when she saw the viscount weeks ago and found his strong resemblance, not in appearance but in gestures and expressions, to Lelouch.

"And if it turns out a lie? Lelouch will certainly be punished for it. He can get to prison."

"Oh hush my dear, you're worrying too much. Just think of the wealth he will take home with him once he fulfilled this mission. I will immediately arrange for your marriage and you will have the most extravagant wedding that every woman would get jealous of in this town." Taking a sip of her tea, Marianne flinches at the unexpected bitterness that graces her tongue. She frowns. Isn't this the same tea that she drinks twice a week? Is it already spoiled?

"That is if he still plans to come back," Kallen mumbles. "It's been a week and not a single letter had arrived on our doorsteps. He might have as well forgotten about us after being charmed by the life in the city."

"Ah, is this jealousy that I am hearing?"

Kallen remains silent and continues to glare at the flower vase between them. Marianne adores Kallen like a mother would to her own daughter. She is the daughter that she never have - that she wanted to have. A childhood friend of her son, being with Kallen is one of the few things that Marianne believes Lelouch had done well in his life. The young woman has the ability to keep her reckless son in her leash even for a few moments and keep him away from trouble. She admires the fiery head's tolerance to Lelouch's womanizing tendencies, and despite all the girls who desperately cling to her son and her son being too vulnerable with these girls, Kallen still manages to be one step higher than them. If Lelouch is wise enough, he would stop meeting other women and make Kallen his wife. But that boy is too hard to control and Marianne wonders where that trait of his come from.

"I'm not jealous," answers Kallen. "I'm just worried about him."

"Worried? Oh," she chuckles, realization dawning on her. "You're worried about him finding other women in the city. Well, I can't fault you with that."

"Miss Lamperouge!"

But Marianne entertains the idea. Because what if Lelouch does find another woman in the Britannia estate? She heard that the viscount hosts big parties in his mansion sometimes wherein nobles gather to talk about their businesses and properties. And certainly, there will be young noblewomen who would catch her son's attention.

A noblewoman for a daughter-in-law, huh. The thought does not sit well with Marianne. A noblewoman means another rival for status and wealth. Her family would possibly take interest in the wealth that Lelouch would get from the viscount, and the Lamperouge being a powerless family before is an easy target to strip off of status and identity.

Marianne cannot let that happen. She'd rather choose Kallen who she can easily manipulate with her words and assurance. There should only be one noblewoman, one head of the house in the Lamperouge family and that would be her.

Reaching out, Marianne places her hand over Kallen's and bestows her a gentle smile. "Do not worry, my dear. I wouldn't let another woman take Lelouch away from you. And if you're worried about him not writing a letter, I am sure that one will arrive soon. He knows what I can do if he delays to report to us for a few more days."

Finally, the younger woman straightens on her seat and fixes the rumpled blue dress that gathered in between her legs. A smile appears on her lips as she flips her hand and returns Marianne's grip. "Thank you. That made me feel better."

"You're welcome, but Kallen, dear, how many times do I have to tell you that blue looks horrendous on you?"

* * *

Someone is following her.

The unsettling feeling has been with her ever since she left the garden after the viscount called it a day and decided that it's time for an early dinner. Ceci decided to trudge the shorter path (the one that passes through the side of the mansion) that will lead her to the kitchen while the noble family uses the main entrance of the mansion. She had always walked here, when she was still a child, even in the darkest nights and never had encountered any danger. She knows the bumps and falls of this soil like the back of her hand so why does this time it feel different and unsafe?

A menacing presence behind her is what bothers the governess as she walks through the narrow path. Leaves and branches hit her face, almost cutting her skin, but Ceci does not dare to stop walking until she is in the safety of the kitchen. Just a little more steps and she will reach it. There. She can actually see the wooden door. The hairs on her back rise and she knows that whoever is behind her is near. She touches her skirt's pocket and feels the metal through the fabric.

Just a little more.

Almost there.

Almost -

The wind is knocked out of her chest when she is forcefully pinned on the wall, a hand over her neck. Her head hits the brick with a thud and for a moment, she is dizzy.

Another hand grabs her waist and pulls her to a sweaty body of an unknown man.

"You smell exquisite."

A nose is buried in her neck as the man inhales her scent. She can feel his wet lips against her skin and she wants to vomit.

Opening her mouth, she attempts to shout when the hand on her neck covers her mouth.

Finally, the assailant pulls back giving Ceci a full view of his face.

A stranger.

Someone who isn't a residence of the house. His green eyes glimmer with menace under the sunset as his lips curl with such bad intent.

But how did he get here? Her hazy mind registers what he is wearing and immediately concludes that he is a carpenter working on the gazeebo.

"You're so beautiful. I couldn't take my eyes off you in the garden. Come on, let me have a taste."

Ceci tries to kick him in the gut but the man positions himself where he is out of her legs' reach.

Her fingers claw on his hand for oxygen is becoming scarce in her lungs and she cannot afford herself to lose consciousness and give the man more access to her body. She hears something tear and suddenly, the cool breeze touches her left hip.

"Stop struggling," the man grunts on her ear. "As a governess, you should be thankful to me for this might be your only opportunity to be with a man. You know how they treat women like you in the society. An outcast. Someone whose status is undefined. Someone who lives with a noble family but is not noble enough to be called family." His free fingers dip into the hole of her dress and caresses her bare skin.

"I want to kiss those lips of yours but you might scream once I remove my hand," she feels him shrug, "I guess I might just do it fast then."

And she cuts his side with her knife. The man staggers away as he tries not to howl in pain. The cut is not that deep but the pain is enough to get him away from her.

"I will tell the viscount about this," she threatens with a trembling voice, knife pointing at him.

The man, now on the ground, laughs mockingly at her and says, "No one will believe your words. You're a woman of no status. Your words are meaningless."

Before leaving, Ceci gives him a couple more cuts on his legs to prevent him from running away.

She staggers to the kitchen door and knocks loudly on the wood.

"Good heavens, Miss Corabelle, what happened?!" Mr. Darlton asks as soon as he sees the poor state of the governess.

Ceci points to where she left the man and says, "He attacked me. I,"  _pant_ , "need to,"  _pant,_ "see the viscount."

The head cook motions to the other cooks who quickly go to where Ceci had pointed. Then, Mr. Darlton guides the governess out of the kitchen and to the dining hall.

"I'm not trying to alarm you but there is blood on your clothes."

Ceci shakes her head, her body still shaking. "It's not mine."

The servants they had passed by in the corridors all looked at her curiously and warily. Ceci could only imagine how devastatingly wrecked she looks like right now. Her hair in a messy disarray, dress torn at certain places, and her neck must be red from the tight grip of the man earlier.

She stops before they approach the doorway of the dining hall and tells Mr. Darlton, "I can't go in looking like this while the children is in there."

"I understand," the cook nods.

While waiting, she catches a glimpse of her reflection on the window. Huh, Mr. Darlton failed to mention that her head is bleeding, too. She is wiping the blood with the sleeve of her dress when the door opens.

"The viscount couldn't talk to you right now. What is it that you have to report about?"

And when Ceci looks up, she finds not the pair of old amethyst eyes that she's been used to looking at, but a pair of young amethyst eyes which are uncharacteristically gazing at her worriedly now.

* * *

The knocks came when the viscount is in the middle of telling a story about one of his trips in the capital and when Lelouch realizes that scaring the children is not the best way to gain the viscount's trust. Instead, he should make his way to the twins' hearts and make them see him as a doting older brother. If he succeeds with this, Rolo and Nunnally will surely tell the viscount of Lelouch's kindness to them which will definitely make the rest of his mission easier.

"My apologies, sir, for disturbing your peaceful dinner. But Miss Corabelle has an urgent matter that needed to be discussed with you."

It is the head cook, Mr. Darlton if Lelouch remembers it correctly, who he briefly met during one of those times when he was searching for a wine.

"Well, let her come in," the viscount orders.

Mr. Darlton glances at his left and shakes his head. "I'm afraid that she cannot go in right now."

"Hmmm, then it must not be as urgent as it is supposed to be."

"But sir..."

The viscount is obviously irritated with the way the dinner is being disrupted. It is still a puzzle to Lelouch, the way the master of the house treats the governess. Most of the time, he showers her with utmost respect as if she is the best teacher his children have ever had, as if she is a legitimate part of the family. Then there are times like this, times when the governess is not allowed to join them in their meals, times when a subtle look of annoyance or sometimes, of mockery, would fall on the viscount's eyes when her name is mentioned, or even he is in her presence. Lelouch wonders if there is deeper story behind their odd dynamic. There are a couple of possibilities that he could think of but he chooses not to entertain one as of the moment and instead, takes this opportunity to show the viscount that he is a reliable man.

"If it is alright with you, I can listen to her on your behalf," Lelouch offers.

"That would be pleasant. Thank you."

Excusing himself, Lelouch follows the cook out of the dining hall. His practiced smirk is already plastered on his face, teasing words ready at the tip of his tongue. Before he can see her, he announces his arrival and asks of her intention. But his arrogant mask fall completely off as soon as his eyes lay on her ruined appearance.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"What happened to you?"

"Where's the viscount?"

Lelouch straightens and clears his throat. Glancing at the old head cook, he nods at him and says, "You are dismissed."

Mr. Darlton worriedly shifts his gaze to the governess before he hesitantly nods and obeys. Lelouch catches the crumple of confusion? Annoyance? Anxiety? (with this woman, the possibilities are infinite) in between Miss Corabelle's eyebrows as he turns to her.

"The viscount is quite occupied in the dining hall and couldn't meet you right now. Instead, he sent me on his behalf to listen to your concern." He tilts his head and examines the battered appearance of the once pristine governess. Her emerald hair that was perpetually tied high up at the back of her head is now messily and asymmetrically resting at the sides of her face like wild vines in the jungle. That's it. She looks like someone who was lost in a jungle for several days after surviving an accident. Faint bruises are blooming on her cheeks and neck while a thin trail of drying blood is on the left side of her forehead. There's a tore on the hip part of her dress and Lelouch's tries to hold himself from staring at the exposed porcelain skin. She looks bad. She looks like she'd been through Hell. And her golden eyes reflect its pits of fire. "Or rather, whatever devastating trouble that happened to you."

"I was attacked... by a carpenter of the gazeebo."

Lelouch's eyes narrow at her words. "What do you mean by 'attacked'?"

Miss Corabelle gulps, looks away, then looks back at him. "I was headed to the kitchen using the other path when I felt someone following me. Then I was roughly pushed against the wall where I hit my head. After that... He buried his face on my neck and whispered nasty words."

"Why didn't you call for help?"

"His large hand covered my mouth immediately."

Lelouch nods, a strange sensation begins flowing through his veins. Gently grabbing the governess' arm, he pulls her along with him as he starts walking. Where he is heading, he doesn't know, but as if they have a mind of their own, his feet begin moving with vague yet intense purpose.

"Where is the bastard now?" he asks in a low voice, his eyes never leaving the long corridor infront of him.

"I left him just outside the kitchen," answers Miss Corabelle, "The cooks went after him as soon as I told them about the incident."

"And how did you escape?"

"I stabbed him."

His head whips so fast that he had a dizzy spell. His feet halt all at once causing the governess to stumble before him. Eyes wide with disbelief, he asks, "Pardon?"

"My apologies, that is not the truth. I was just able to cut him on the side and legs. But that was only to prevent him from escaping."

"Cut? With what?"

The governess gives him a judging look probably because of how foolish he had sounded as he repeated her words.

"A comb, Mr. Lamperouge. I cut him using a comb with bristles so sharp they can cut a tree in half," she deadpans. Then, to Lelouch's surprise, she rolls her eyes. "Of course, I used a knife."

When he does not manifest any sign of movement, Miss Corabelle resumes walking and strides past him. Shaking his head, he immediately follows and falls into step with her. "A knife? I thought you weren't able to reach the kitchen."

"I wasn't," her short answer signals that she wouldn't entertain any of his shallow questions. Lelouch clamps his mouth shut as they continue to trudge the way to the kitchen. As soon as another servant appears in their vicinity, the young man holds the governess' arm and calls the servant's attention.

"Fetch the doctor quickly and make sure that he will attend to Miss Corabelle's injuries. Those are the viscount's orders," then to the governess he says, "You may go to your room. I'll handle everything from here."

"But – "

"That's the viscount's command, too, Miss Corabelle."

He watches her fight the urge to question his words, his lies. The tension below her eyes and on her swanlike neck is both captivating and exhilarating to look at. But she won't be able disobey his statement – not when he just the used the viscount's name and there's another person who have heard the pseudo-command.

They stand there, staring at each other for what seems like a few breathless moments until the stubborn governess looks down and says, "I shall take my leave then."

The man then hurries to the kitchen where he is pointed to proceed to the stables where Mr. Darlton and the other men brought the attacker.

There, he towers over the tied man like a cruel master with his disgraceful servant. "How dare you commit such sin in the land that brings food to your mouth?"

"It was her fault, sir! She enchanted me with her beauty and eyes! She kept on looking my way this afternoon and I thought that it was an invitation! She seduced me, sir!"

Tilting his head, Lelouch addresses their audience and asks, "You lot know Miss Corabelle more than I. Say, is it in her character to act in such way as this man said?"

He carefully observes their expressions – each dip of their eyebrows and wrinkles around their mouths. Being a painter had taught him to be more observant of people's faces in order to capture their true self in the canvas. It is a critical feat, one that requires accuracy and deep understanding of humanity. Sometimes, it takes him only a second to capture his customer's desire and put it on paint, but most of the time, it would take days, weeks, or worse, months for him to decide which mask should he bestow to a certain individual. A wrong curve of the eyebrow could make a jolly person look brooding. A wrong angled nose could make someone appear either like an aristocrat or a witch.

Mr. Darlton is the one who shook his head first - his eyes are that of conviction and sincerity. "No, sir. It is not in Miss Corabelle's nature."

"Does everyone agree with him?"

Everyone nods.

"I see..."

Lelouch turns back to the now trembling man and crouches infront of him. Eyes ablaze, he grabs the man's hair and tilts his bowed head up towards his. "How brave of you to do such thing while the master is at home," he begins in a threatening voice, "but it does not matter if he is here or not, doesn't it? No innocent person should experience danger especially when they are alone and vulnerable. Taking advantage of women is not welcomed in this mansion. Therefore..." Lelouch slowly rises, puts his hands on his back and stares down at the man. "As per the viscount's orders, you shall be brought to the authorities and have the incident reported."

"No! I'm sorry! Please don't do this!" the man desperately pleads yet they fall into deaf ears.

It is when Lelouch was about to turn away and leave that he notices the blood on his legs. The man sees where he is looking at and takes it to his advantage.

"That woman cut me! She is a violent lady! One you shouldn't trust!"

Lelouch raises a brow. "Is that so? Well then, I'd rather be stabbed by a brave woman at the front and admire her for that instead of getting attacked by a coward man like you at the back."

And he leaves the man in the stables, begging for his mercy.

* * *

A week.

That's how long she should rest and get healed according to the doctor. A week, that's how long she should stay in her room and be out of the children's sight so they wouldn't get frightened and worried according to the viscount.

A week.

That sounds like a year.

The bandage around her head feels heavy and containing, a trap of its own. Her limbs are aching, something that surprises her and which she blames on underestimating the bruises that the man had given her. But she still can stand, walk even without falling forward or needing the assistance of others. Instead, what bothers her the most is her time away with the twins. She had just returned from a three-day vacation, and now, another week of lessons and simply spending time with them would be lost. And days like this is when Ceci feels alone the most. Homesickness is her only visitor with endless thoughts of Shirley and her childhood home accompanying her in the solitude of her room.

It is a couple of days since the attack and the viscount had already informed her that the attacker was sent to the authorities. She silently gave him her gratitude but much to her surprise, he told her that all the credits should be given to Mr. Lamperouge who did all the appropriate actions.

Ceci gnaws on her dry lips as she mulls over this fact. It is only right to let Mr. Lamperouge know that she truly appreciated his efforts. Though she couldn't simply set aside the things that he had done to the children, perhaps there's another part of him - a good part of him - that they haven't seen before. Later, when she no longer look weak and vulnerable, she would seek the man and express her thankfulness, and perhaps, it would be the right time to lay all of her concerns regarding his treatment of the twins at the surface instead of continuing this tension that restrains their conversations.

The thought makes her feel better. Leaving the confines of her room, she secretly proceeds to the kitchen and meet with Mr. Darlton.

It is deep into the night and the soft glow of the lamp guides them as they rummage through the silverware of the mansion and lay them on the big oak table in the kitchen.

"What was it that you wanted to tell me before the attack?" she asks as she touches the cold metals.

"I and some of the servants observed something not right with these utensils. Look closely at them, miss, and you'll see what we are talking about."

Ceci does and under the weak light, she holds one spoon up and notices the small scattered rusty areas. She picks up a fork and a knife and finds the same areas on them. Eyes narrowed, the governess roams her eyes around the silverware that lay before her.

"It was Euphy, the dishwasher, who noticed them the other day. The rust is all over this set of utensils and it is uncertain how long they've been there."

"It can cause danger to everyone's health," mumbles Ceci. "Who is the maker?"

"These are the products of Guilford Kitchenware."

"Have you told the viscount about it?"

Mr. Darlton nods. "We have already informed him. As a temporary solution, we are currently using a different set while a letter of concern was forwarded to the maker."

"A different set?"

Resting his hands on the oak table, the older man leans forward and stares meaningfully at her. "The silverware from the Fenettes. I suggested it and the viscount approved."

"He did?" she whispers, as if doing so will not shatter the hope that is warming in her chest.

"But with strict instructions that we shall only use the existing sets and not to purchase any new one. He's still adamant with his decision, Miss Corabelle."

And with that, the hope withers even before it blooms. Of course, he would say that. That's the viscount for you. After all, the supply of the Fenette's silverware here is enough to be used in a large banquet. Purchasing more would be impractical at the moment. But this incident with the other utensils, she wonders if she could somehow turn it into their shop's favor. In total, the mansion uses silverware from three shops - the Fenette's, the Guilford's and the Cardemonde's. Among the three, it is the Fenette's which is the youngest supplier of the mansion, one that only started when Ceci's grandmother was the governess here. Yet the quality of their product had continuously proven that excellence not only comes with age, but with efficiency and dedication to service. So when the viscount announced that he would be halting his purchase from her family, Ceci knew that product quality has nothing to do with his decision, not when she had talked to him of her plan to buy the contract forged between the Britannias and the Fenettes to end the servitude of her family to the nobility on her that certain morning. A contract that was incredulously overpriced and is being paid by dreams and future. A contract that had already been fulfilled by her ancestors but not yet deemed ineffective.

"I see," Ceci says with determination. "Thank you for telling me about this, Mr. Darlton. I truly appreciate the help that you've been giving me."

The old man smiles. "I recognized your mother's spirit in your eyes and she had been a very good friend of mine."

An image of a tall woman with stern golden eyes, long orange hair and a permanent frown on her lips appears in Ceci's mind. It seems like it was just yesterday, when she was only a child who had followed her mother in every corner of the mansion in order to learn the way of life of governesses and of the Britannias. It seems like it was just yesterday, when she still saw the high ceilings of the mansion the same as a palace's and she's a princess living in it instead of a cage and she's a bird trapped in it.

It seems like it was just yesterday when her mother had combed Ceci's hair at night and uttered silent apologies that her younger mind couldn't comprehend.

_I'm sorry for not being able to protect you from this fate._

_I'm sorry for trapping you in this destiny._

_I'm sorry for taking away your dreams._

Dreams.

Whenever her mother said that word, Ceci would automatically answer with wanting to be a famous pianist who travels the world to have a concierto, and mother would quietly cry on her shoulders.

She had long forgotten about that dream. Had already buried it together with her other mundane desires.

"Are you going to talk to the viscount?" asks Mr. Darlton.

Ceci shakes her head. "There will be no use. And I think that talking to him would only worsen the situation. Perhaps, I'll try to find a way to turn things positively without his knowledge."

"Hmmm. Well, be careful when dealing with him, Miss Corabelle. We all know that he's a cunning man."

"I always am, Mr. Darlton. I always am."

* * *

He didn't plan on getting drunk tonight.

When he had left the mansion earlier, all he had in mind was to explore the city so as to defuse the tension that had rooted itself in his veins during the confrontation at the stables a couple of days ago.

He is still a stranger and the twists and turns of the city is a big labyrinth for his troubled mind. Fortunately, the viscount was generous enough to lend him one of the horses and heading to the main city became easier and faster.

Yet what greeted him inside was beyond the comprehension of a small town boy. The fast-paced transactions of shops, markets and barters on the streets, the lively pubs that were ten times more than the number of pubs in his village, the howling laughter of nobles and ordinary people alike, the bright establishments and even the well-lit streets, to say that Lelouch's sensations were overwhelmed would be an understatement.

He was astounded that he had the horse stand in the middle of the crowded street for a few minutes before an angry shout snapped him out of his amazement. His exploration led him to a nondescript pub which offered the cheapest drinks, cheap enough to be paid by his limited money.

It started with one drink.

But it always started that way, correct? So why was he so drunk right now?

The drink might be cheap but it was unexpectedly strong and Lelouch being Lelouch couldn't help but challenge himself with how many bottles he could consume before he passes out.

Solitude also played a big part in his game. With no one else to talk to, he had settled on watching people and had noticed the few women that were in the room. Attractive women. Or attractive enough to his drunken mind. A blonde girl waved at him and he gave her a tipsy smile, then he turned away to nurse his bottle.

And now, he is only on his third bottle and he is already too drunk by his standards. Luciano would certainly have a laughing fit and call him a weakling if he was here. His mother would glare at him from her seat in the living room when he comes staggering in their house in the middle of the night. Meanwhile, Kallen would surely help him to his bed, take his clothes off and give him warm water to settle his ruined stomach.

Oh, Kallen. He wonders how she is right now. He had sent her a letter yesterday together with his mother's but he doubts that it had already reached them by now. Closing his eyes, he takes a huge gulp of his drink and the image of a blue-eyed pretty woman appears behind his lids. Oh, bloody hell, he misses her tremendously. He misses her as a puppy would with his owner. Yes, he became a docile dog everytime he was in her strong presence for he never feared being rejected and ignored when he was with her. Kallen was always there with her arms wide opened despite the troubles he had brought in his wake. Kallen's anger at him was always short-lived and a few tender kisses would always erase her frown, and a few secret touches would immediately make her breathless.

Kallen is his safe haven. A constant since childhood who he had never feared of losing. Because no matter how troublesome he gets, no matter how furious she gets, at the end of the day, she likes him more than he deserves to be liked. More than he does with her.

Lelouch opens his eyes and the bottle infront of him doubled. Narrowing his eyes, he tries to grab the other one only for his hand to meet air. Truly, definitely drunk. And comfort-deprived.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

A smooth voice comes from his left and it takes all of Lelouch's remaining concentration to turn his head. Blonde hair, his hazy mind could make out. Red lips, pale skin. The woman who waved at him? He isn't certain. He is too intoxicated to ascertain.

"I am alone," is his tipsy response.

The woman laughs and he does not know why but he laughs with her.

"You're quite drunk now, are you?"

"I am perfectly sober, my lady."

The lady giggles and Lelouch decides that he likes her giggle.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Karen. What is yours, mister?"

"Kallen?" he repeats. "Kallen, Kallen..."

The lady shakes her head and briefly appears to correct him but stops herself at the last second. Instead, she gives him a tantalizing smile and drunk Lelouch decides that he likes her smile, too.

"Well, you could be the first one to call me that mister...?"

"Lelouch. Lelouch Lamperouge at your mercy." His bow is slight but it is enough to cause him unwanted dizziness.

"I see, Mr. Lamperouge, it's the first time that I see you here. Are you a tourist? A tradesman?" Karen/Kallen reaches out to rest her hand over his arm. Her thumb caresses the fabric of his clothes and he could feel her desire on his skin.

"No, I am not, but I just arrived a week ago."

"Is that so? Then it must be lonely." Scooting next to him, Karen/Kallen puts her other hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his groin, and whispers to his ear, her hot breath tickling his lobe. "To be alone in an unfamiliar place with all of these strangers. No one to talk to, no one to share your secrets with."

If Lelouch was sober, he would still end up in this scenario but he would have the control to make wise decisions and remember his promise to his lover. But Lelouch is not sober, and a not sober Lelouch makes unwise decisions and forgets promises.

He follows her voice and his face comes too near with the lady's. Too close that a soft push on his shoulder would land his lips on hers. "But you are not a stranger, Kallen," he whispers back. Against the light, her eyes are dull with undetermined color, but in Lelouch's unfocused gaze, they are morphing into blue, her blonde hair turning red, her voice turning familiar.

Kallen... Why is she here? How did she get here?

A squeeze on his thigh. His eyes shut at the heightened sensation.

"No, I am not."

And something covers his lips.

Something soft, warm and seeking.

Something that bites on his lips and forces them to open.

Something that tastes like alcohol and honey.

He opens his eyes and meets blue ones.

"Kallen, I'm so glad you're here."

And he dives into her with a hunger of a lion and eagerness of a dog. His lips smash against hers as he grabs her waist and pulls her towards him. Desperate, his tongue seeks entrance only to be refused. He releases a frustrated growl as his head is pulled away from the woman.

"Not here, Mr. Lamperouge. Come, can you stand?"

It is a miracle how he is able to stand and walk without toppling over, but he does and in a blur of his surroundings, they are in a dark narrow alley and his head is buried in the woman's neck, his teeth lightly biting her skin.

"I missed you so much, Kallen. I missed doing this with you."

'Kallen' does not respond, but her short breaths and wandering hands are enough for Lelouch to know that she likes this too. His mouth finds hers once again and this time, his tongue is granted entrance - sweeping the roof of her mouth, tangling with hers. 'Kallen' tastes different, her whimpers sound different but all of his doubts vanish when her fingers brush his front and his hips voluntarily buckle towards her waiting hand.

Another giggle.

Odd, 'Kallen' never giggles.

"Someone seems to be deprived for a week. Do not worry, Mr. Lamperouge, I'm going to give you the best pleasure you could ever imagine."

'Kallen' pushes him away to gather her skirt, but when her eyes clash his, they had suddenly turned into gold. In the darkness of the alley, her golden orbs shine like a pair of fireflies playfully teasing him to follow them.

Golden eyes...

"Miss Corabelle?" he asks, confused.

The woman stops collecting her skirt and raises a curious eyebrow at him. "Now I am Miss Corabelle?"

But her words fall into deaf, drunken ears because her face has become that of stubborn delicateness with small narrow nose, pink shiny lips and long emerald tresses. Her eyes carry the defiance that Lelouch is familiar with for the past week.

"What are you doing here? You should be resting," he manages to say while touching her face. She is letting him touch her face. He must be dreaming.

'Miss Corabelle' covers his hand with hers and whispers in a manner that is completely un-Miss Corabelle, "I am here to comfort you."

"Comfort me?"

On her tiptoes, she gives him a feathery kiss. Too shocked, Lelouch remains immobile as he tries to process the kiss that she generously bestows him. Why would she when she had looked at him with only suspicion and rebelliousness? Why would she when she sees him as the wolf that would harm the twins? Something... Something that his drunken mind couldn't remember must have happened between them that led to this situation.

Lelouch stares at her beautiful face as he slowly leans forward and lightly kisses her lips. Testing. "Ceci," he calls reverently dropping the honorific. Another gentle kiss, this time lingering, a hand cupping her cheek. "Ceci." His mouth finds the corner of her lips and kisses her there, too. "Ceci." She never stops him. She kisses him back with equal gentleness. "Bloody hell, Ceci."

In a blink, her legs are wrapped around him and her back is pinned against the wall. A light thud of her head and Lelouch worries for her injury. Yet when he is about to pull back, 'Ceci' grasps a handful of his raven hair and embraces him tighter. He surrenders. In an aggression that is foreign and unnatural to him, he presses his mouth too hard against hers, almost feral, probably revengeful - revengeful for all of the times she spoke words of challenge and wit that easily outsmarted him. He kisses her closed eyes, revengeful for all of the times they stared at him with judgment and subtle contempt. He kisses her neck, nips at her skin to ease the tension of stubbornness that resides there - so that she would stop tilting her chin up as if she's looking down at him whenever they talk. He holds her tiny waist and feels her smallness, feels how she is short compared to him. He basks on how she is a woman and he, a man, and they are capable of sharing a moment like this no matter how impossible and unbelievable it may seem. He basks in this moment for this might be just an anomaly, just a mistake that would never get repeated.

"Whoever 'Ceci' is, I like to play her more than 'Kallen' to get this reaction from you."

"Annalise!"

Suddenly, hands and legs are grabbing and pulling him, and with Lelouch's pitiful drunkenness, he is taken away without any fight until he falls unconscious in a place unknown to him.

* * *

He was drunk.

Last night.

Last night, he was drunk.

Lelouch repeats this over and over in his head as he sulkily munches on his bread in a small dining room unfamiliar to him. A tall man hums in the kitchen and Lelouch couldn't remember when, where, and how he met him for him to end up in his house.

The tall man, who earlier introduced himself as Gino, puts a bowl of soup before him and sits on the chair across the table.

"You are quite fortunate that I happen to pass by when the commotion happened last night. That was Annalise's husband going after you with a gun."

"I don't remember any Annalise," Lelouch mumbles.

A bright laugh comes from Gino, and his brightness is too much for Lelouch's aching head. "You wouldn't. She uses different names with different men. No matter how hard her husband tried to control her, it is just how she is. And you were the unlucky victim last night. Or dare I say, lucky?" Gino gives him a bright smile and it is like staring directly at the sun. How can a man possess a blond hair and a bright face all at once? In another day, Lelouch might have appreciated it. But not today.

"This is the first time that I've seen you. What's your name?"

Lelouch tells him and Gino echoes his surname for a couple of times before deciding that he had never encountered anyone with such name. After breakfast, his host offers to take him back to his residence. When he tells him that he lives in the Britannia estate, he earns a surprised and skeptical look from the blond.

Gino brought his borrowed horse, much to Lelouch's relief. The long journey had made him realize how far away he had been from the mansion. It took them a little after lunch until the cart finally reaches the gate of the estate.

"If you need a guide to help you navigate the city, you can find me at the plaza. Though, I am only there when night falls for I have work during the day."

Lelouch gratefully nods at him and carelessly tucks that knowledge away in his box of 'Things He Would Possibly Forget'.

Using the entrance to the kitchen, Lelouch silently trudges his way to his room, his back longing for the comfort of the soft bed and pillows. If he ever passes by the twins, he would more likely ignore them and let them have the triumph for today. Fortunately, he didn't. Unfortunately, he stumbles upon the one person who he doesn't want to see right now.

"Are you well, Mr. Lamperouge?" Miss Corabelle, with her round golden eyes that are strangely looking at him kindly, inquires as she gets out of what seems to be her room.

Of what seems to be her room that is next to his own one.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Mr. Lamperouge had turned into a wolf.

A wolf that lies silently on the couch, violet eyes sharp, lips in a snarl, limbs spread out ready for an attack, raven hair dishevelled.

The twins tried their best to avoid the looming and brooding presence of their guest, afraid that he would bare his fangs to them or worse, bite them, but just like in a dark fairytale, the wolf always finds a way to be in the same place with the innocent children. He was there when they were taking music lessons from their temporary teacher in the Music Room, and Rolo's fingers became a stumbling mess. He was also there when they were learning about the countries in the world and Nunnally almost got lost in Japan. Mr. Lamperouge was there, too, when they were doing Math problems. Maybe because wolves have an impeccable sense of smell, Nunnally had said. They could smell their prey from very far places. Rolo shivered at the thought of them being his prey.

But unlike before, Mr. Lamperouge remained quiet in his nest. And somehow, this brought relief to the twins, and to Miss Milly, too, as they observed.

"A black wolf," Rolo whispers as he steals a glance at the older man sitting by the window sill.

"A wolf without a pack," Nunnally adds.

"Can a wolf live alone?"

"Hmmm…" Tapping her chin with her short fingers, Nunnally tries to recall what Miss Ceci taught them about wild animals. But it had been so long ago, last week to be exact, when their governess discussed that subject. "I can't remember. But, it must be lonely to be alone."

Rolo's eyebrows furrow. "Mr. Lamperouge does not look sad, though. He looks angry. Is he angry at us?"

"We didn't do anything wrong."

"Please focus on the lesson, little masters," their nanny gently chastises. "Miss Ceci will be delighted if you study diligently until she returns. Don't you want to surprise her of your broad learnings and knowledge when she comes back?"

"Listen to her, little elves, and stop gossiping about me. Miss Ceci will be disappointed when I tell her how you turn into tactless children within a week."

Horrified, Nunnally and Rolo could only stare wide-eyed at the wolfman before them. His voice is a growl of an alpha ready to jump its victim. Somewhere near the twins, they feel their nanny move closer, almost infront of them like a shield.

"We are not gossiping about you, Mr. Lamperouge. Rolo and I are talking about wolves."

Mr. Lamperouge raises a sharp brow at them as he leans back against the window frame. Arms crossed, he gives a wolfish smirk. "I see that you are dishonest, too. What a pity."

"Mr. Lamperouge, I believe that it is improper to frighten the twins who are, may I remind you, the children of the viscount, with false accusations," Miss Milly says in a tone that the young ones haven't heard before. She sounds scary, like a dark queen ready to punish her servants. In that moment, she looks so tall that her blonde hair seems like the sunlight over tall mountains.

Without missing a beat and with no trace of fright or threat on his face, Mr. Lamperouge turns to her. "And may I remind you who you are talking to?"

Miss Milly bites her lips which does not bode well with Nunnally and Rolo. Miss Milly looks angry, too, and they've never seen an angry Miss Milly. They don't understand why Mr. Lamperouge is being the harsh man that he is. They did not do anything wrong to him. They've been polite to him, greeted him when necessary, even entertained his ridiculous games sometimes. But why does he always treat them like toys that he can play whichever way he likes?

With her hands gripping her nanny's skirt, Nunnally feels the older woman's tension. She wants to hold her hand and tell her not to be afraid, but the young girl is afraid, too.

"Do you know who I am, little elves?" This time, the question is directed to them.

"You are papa's special guest," answers Rolo.

Mr. Lamperouge raises a finger. "Correct. And?"

And? Papa didn't mention an 'and'. All Papa told them was Mr. Lamperouge is not an ordinary guest. He would be staying in the mansion for a longer time than the usual and should be treated like a friend.

Looking at each other, the twins shake their heads.

"It seems like your Miss Ceci is keeping secrets from you."

"Grown-ups have a lot of secrets. That's what she told us," says Nunnally, but the knowledge of Miss Ceci not trusting them because they are too young for grown-up talks still made her sad.

"Well, I know where she has gone, too."

Miss Milly warns beside Nunnally, "Mr. Lamperouge…"

Mr. Lamperouge only gives her a brief dismissive glance before he stands to his full height, puts his hands in his pockets and looks coldly down at the twins.

"Where is she, sir?" Rolo's small voice asks.

"And why should I tell you when your governess didn't? But I can think of a few reasons why she would hide from you such as - "

Suddenly, they are underwater. Suddenly, everything is muted. Miss Milly's hands were quick to cover the twins' ears as she pressed the sides of their heads against her hips. Nunnally and Rolo look up to their nanny and find her lips moving too fast, looking furious. In their young eyes, Miss Milly turned into a brave falcon defending her powerless chicks. Soft purple eyes turn to Mr. Lamperouge and are surprised how the brooding wolf earlier became tame and silent. Rolo can still sense the tension from the older man, the sharpness of his glare proving that his mood is still dark. But Mr. Lamperouge is not as harsh as he looked like earlier. Instead, Rolo catches the hesitant swift glance that he bestowed the children before he speaks with Miss Milly.

They can hear a few mumbled words but not clear enough to understand and comprehend.

At last, Mr. Lamperouge bows his head and leaves the Sun room. As soon as he is out of sight, Miss Milly removes her hands and kneels before them. Her worried hands busy themselves fixing their hair and clothes.

They like their nanny a lot. She is like a caring older sister who always look after their welfare. Her touches know how to comfort and calm the twins like the gentle waves of the sea lulling small boats. She has been with them as long as Miss Ceci is their governess too. And these two older women are the mother and sister-figures that they wished they biologically have.

"Did you have a fight?" inquires Nunnally with wide doe eyes seeking for clarity.

Miss Milly gives them a tight smile. "We had an argument."

"We can tell papa about Mr. Lamperouge's rude manners when he comes back," appeals Rolo.

"Don't worry your pretty little heads about this matter. I promise that Mr. Lamperouge wouldn't harm you again. Say, I believe that it's time for your bath."

But as they exit the Sun Room, the twins couldn't help but dart their eyes around their surroundings, anxious that the black wolf still lingers in the most hidden corners.

* * *

Ceci folds the letter she will send to Shirley into two and ties a red ribbon around it. She hopes that her sister and the other staff of the shop will be able to uncover the truth behind the problem with the Guilford Kitchenware. Furthermore, she asked them to take extra care in product making so as to avoid the same fate of their rival shop. They cannot risk the established reputation of the Fenette's cutleries and lose more customers from committing the same mistake they have could easily prevented.

Although, Ceci strongly trusts Shirley with the decisions and judgments concerning their business, there will be no harm in taking additional measures to protect their family's legacy.

A door slamming snatches her deep thoughts and her head automatically turns to the direction of the next room. As the shock of their discovery wore out, it is still a very convenient coincident, at least to Ceci, that Mr. Lamperouge's room is next to hers. Why the viscount failed to mention this arrangement is beyond her but she will take this situation as it is. After all, with this closer proximity, she can monitor his movements easier especially at night.

The surprise painted on the man's face yesterday morning is still fresh on her mind. He realized the situation first as he witnessed her exit her room.

_"Are you well, Mr. Lamperouge?"_

_"What are you doing there?"_

_Ceci looked back at the door of her room then returned her confused gaze to him. "That is my room."_

_The shock on his face escalated until he was wincing. It dawned on Ceci that Mr. Lamperouge must had a headache with the way his body slouched, his head tilted to the side and his brows furrowed._

_"Your room?" he asked incredulously._

_Ceci nodded. "Yes, it is."_

_He shook his head which only worsened his headache. Holding the side of his head, he released a laugh deprived of humor, "Of all the people. Of all the goddamn people, it has to be you."_

_It's Ceci's turn to narrow her eyes. "Do you have any concern about the situation?"_

_But the man only stared at her with contempt? Hatred? Which Ceci didn't understand the reason why. His body was slouching, but she realized that it was slightly turned away from her. He looked defensive yet ready to flee like a wild animal cornered by its predator. His burning purple eyes sent a chilling sensation to her skin. All of a sudden, she remembered her purpose of leaving her room. In any case, she hoped that it will satiate his awful mood and headache this very early in the morning._

" _Actually, I am looking for you, Mr. Lamperouge." When he continued to glare, she mustered a pleasant smile and continued, "I would like to thank you – "_

" _We can talk about this later. I'm bloody tired."_

_And he left her standing there, in the middle of her speech, entering the room next to hers, slamming the door in his wake._

Very much reminiscent of the sound that echoed a few moments ago.

Somehow, Ceci thought of the possibilities why they never crossed paths during the days of being just next to each other. She wakes up when the sun is still sleeping and the hallways of the mansion are still lulled into slumber, to prepare for the day's lessons and activities. At night, she retires a few hours after putting the children to sleep which is still considered as too early a sleeping time for an adult like her. Her whole day is spent with her wards. Meanwhile, little of what she knows about Mr. Lamperouge's schedule, he turns up for breakfast when the sun is already glaring in the sky, and goes to his room of what she can only suppose as an ungodly hour. His days are unevenly parted between staying wherever the twins are and disappearing somewhere he does not disclose.

"Ceci, are you in there?"

Ceci immediately goes to the door and is surprised by the urgent look on Milly's face. "What is it?"

Without getting invited, the nanny enters her room where she continues to walk to and fro infront of her friend. Her lower lip is trapped between her teeth while her hands are tightly gripping her skirt.

"What is the matter, Milly?"

"Oh, what a waste! Such a waste!" Milly throws her hands up in the air then grabs Ceci's shoulders, shaking the latter hard in obvious dismay.

"Milly, my head," she protests as she feels a dull pain on that certain body part.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear!" With clumsy hands, the nanny pats her bandage and coos at her just like how she coos on the children.

"Why are you so enraged like a mad woman having cheated on by her lover?"

"Oh, sweet Ceci, it's more than that. It's about the children and Mr. Lamperouge."

"The twins? Where are they?"

"They're taking a peaceful nap right now, thank Heavens, and are far away from the evil claws of that handsome devil," the nanny snarls at the end.

"Devil? By all means, are you pertaining to Mr. Lamperouge?" whispers Ceci.

Without any grace, Milly sits on her bed with her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Ceci remains standing by the door, quite intent to listen to whatever her friend will reveal.

Milly yells, "Indeed! That handsome face of his is nothing but a mask to cover his dark soul. Good thing, I was able to cover the children's ears and they didn't hear a thing he said."

"Milly…" Ceci begins in a low voice, "tell me what happened."

So Milly tells her, with her pursed lips and unwavering voice.

So Ceci listens, with her heart thudding fast and her chest heaving.

She listens intently to the nanny's every word, careful that she wouldn't miss a phrase, a thought, that will change the narrative of the events. She listens there, standing stiff infront of the door as the phrases, 'weak children', 'your governess does not love you enough', 'she doesn't trust you', 'Miss Ceci might have gotten fed up with your childish games', and other false accusations flow from Milly's tongue while relaying what had transpired.

"When I told him that I will report what he did to the viscount, he faltered and stopped. It's as if he was deep in a trance when said those awful words and he just realized what he had done. Oh, poor little masters! Imagine if they have heard it. There sweet pretty hearts will definitely be broken."

"Have you told the viscount?"

Milly shakes her head sadly. "He hasn't returned from his visit to the Duke."

"I see. Well then." In a blink, she turns around and opens the door. From behind, she hears Milly ask where she is going but she does not bestow her a reply. Instead, her feet urgently leads her to the room beside hers where she loudly rapts on the wooden door, certain that her knuckles will bruise later.

"Ceci, what are you doing?" inquires Milly behind her.

Ceci continues to knock until the door suddenly and finally opens causing her knuckles to land on a hard chest.

"What the bloody hell?" Mr. Lamperouge grumbles as he stares down at her hand that is still against his body.

"Yes, you are going to Hell, Mr. Lamperouge, if you don't stop harrassing the children. I'm going to make certain of it." She is fuming, heating, like a volcano that could errupt violently and leave thousands of casualties on its wake. And if she does, Mt. Vesuvius is going to look like a docile mountain.

"Ceci..." the nanny appeals.

Without removing her glare from the man, the angry governess says, "Milly, will you leave us for a while?"

"But - "

"Please? They may wake up soon."

From her peripheral vision, she watches the nanny's gaze flits between her and Mr. Lamperouge. Finally, Milly nods and heeds her request.

"Mr. Lamperouge," Ceci begins again, her voice shaking. She knows how she exactly looks like right now - cheeks red from anger, eyes wide and dark from frustration, chin up stubbornly and trembling. She could never be more wrong as she is in this moment. It's hysterical to her how, just yesterday, she was contemplating on thanking him for what he had done, how she was thinking that there must be some hidden goodness in him. At the back of her head, there's a faint voice whispering that she is acting on her emotions too drastically, too rashly and that she should take a break and analyze things over prudently just like what she always does. But she ignores the voice and lets herself lose her always pristine composure. Because Nunnally and Rolo are her top priorities, and for them, she would unshed even the thickest skin that she wears in order to protect their innocence.

Despite all of her rage, her voice comes out soft and airy. "Why are you being so cruel?"

* * *

_Because of you._

He almost said it, almost voiced out the words that would only cause more confusion and misdirected anger.

Lelouch stares down at the livid governess before him and as much as it frustrated him, he finds her beauty of madness enchanting and hypnotizing.

_Because of you, because of you, because of you._

Yet, it wasn't always her fault. At first, he was confused by the displeasure he always felt whenever he sees the twins. He was puzzled as to why there's a heaviness in his chest which often manifested itself as unamusing teases and actions towards Rolo and Nunnally. But recently, he had realized that it was all out of the subtle jealousy from watching them grow up in a manner that was stolen from him. In a lifestyle that was withheld from him. Childish as it is, he couldn't help but envy them of the viscount's generous attention. If only he had grown up in this place with enough resources and supportive acquaintances, perhaps, he might have been someone elite and famous by now.

Indeed, he had decided to change tactics and get the twins' affection in order to achieve the viscount's trust and admiration, but what little of his plan were thrown out of the water after what happened _that night._

That night when he was too drunk to comprehend his actions and too weak to control his inhibitions unknown even to him.

When it became clear that he harbors a hidden desire for the pretty governess – desire that he has to suppress and prevent from blooming into something more outrageous and dangerous because... because... oh, bloody hell, he hasn't felt anything like this with Kallen and he has Kallen. He had broken his promise to his lover.

It is like being hit by an arrow from his blindside - sharp, deep, and very much unexpected and unwelcomed.

What a mystery it is, when he only knew the lady for a few days, had a couple of tensed conversations with her, and she already holds this presence over him.

His tongue could still taste the flavor of her name. Those two short syllables that can be uttered in a desperate whisper. He still remembers how freeing it felt to call her only by her real name without the boundary of their status separating them. Despite being too drunk, he can still clearly remember the fantasy he imposed to another woman, seeing the governess's face, imagining it was her he was doing such lustful acts with.

And until now, even after the drunkenness completely faded, the adrenaline rush brought by that fantasy had engraved itself to his nerves making him agitated and restless.

Unlogical! Incomprehensible! Unrealistic!

So he is brooding with this knowledge, and the unfortunate victims were the poor twins whose connection to the governess is too tight he couldn't help but lash out on them.

Ah, Miss Corabelle is right. He has been unreasonably cruel to the twins and he is regretting saying those words albeit they didn't hear them.

But her timing for a confrontation is quite terrible. For he hasn't come to terms with himself on how she affected him and now he is more heated.

"Don't you have anything to say, Mr. Lamperouge?" asks the governess, who had already retrieved her hand from his chest.

"I see that the nanny has quite the tongue."

"She just did what she have to do."

He scoffs. "What? To report to you? You're just a mere governess who doesn't hold any power in this residence. You're not the lady of the house. You're not the mother of the twins. Or else…" His eyes narrow as an immature conclusion falls over him. "Or else, you are the viscount's mistress, his paramour. Say, are you going to be my stepmother?" he utters with pure mockery.

The sting comes first as fast as regret did as soon as those words left his mouth – hot and sharp and painful before the realization that he had been slapped dawn on him. He touches his right cheek with the tips of his fingers and slowly, turns his head back to the woman before him.

"I'm so – "

"I…," the governess breathes shakily but her chin remains up, her golden eyes glassy like that of a stained glass, "You don't owe me any apology but the twins deserve one. And kindness, that is all I ask of you, Mr. Lamperouge. I hope you still have a heart to understand, or the viscount shall hear everything that you've done."

"You wouldn't tell him what I did today?" he hesitantly asks, guilt and remorse dripping from his voice.

"I would have loved to, but…" she breathes again then clears her throat, "this will be your last chance to treat the children kindly."

Without any thought, his hand reaches out as soon as turns to leave. Landing on her wrist, the both of them stare in surprise as his hand encloses around her.

"Mr. Lamperouge?"

Taking a silent step towards her, he lowers his head and directly meets her eyes. In a soft reluctant voice that never once he had used before – not with Kallen and definitely not with his mother, he apologizes, "I'm truly sorry for what I've said about you. That was so ill of me."

Miss Corabelle nods once. "You can show your genuine regret by starting to be nice with Nunnally and Rolo."

He searches her gaze. "Always for them?"

"Always for them."

And she snatches her hand back, cradles it against her chest and leaves his room without looking back.

The viscount didn't return that evening.

The little Britannias and Lelouch went on their usual routine of having dinner together despite the tension that is mostly coming from the older man. The young ones, who are thoroughly energized by their long nap, eat happily with their nanny. Meanwhile, the raven-haired man couldn't stop his eyes from darting towards the door as if anxious that someone would enter and join them. Someone with a doll-like face and strong resolve. He shakes his head. The confrontation that afternoon still lingers in his mind.

" _You can show your genuine regret by starting to be nice with Nunnally and Rolo."_

He clears his throat. Suddenly, he is nervous and it is embarrassing. "Rolo? Nunnally?"

The twins look up from their food and glance warily at him. From the corner of his eyes, he sees the nanny sit straighter with her lips in a thin line.

"Yes, Mr. Lamperouge?" is their innocent response.

Putting his utensils down on his plate, he bestows them a remorseful look. "I apologized for how I've been behaving since I came here. I'm sorry for scaring you with my words and games. I promise that I won't be treating you badly again. If you'll accept me, I would want to be your friend."

It is Nunnally who speaks first. "But you're too old to be our friend."

Lelouch smiles. "Well, friendship doesn't always occur between people of the same ages. As long as we are having fun together – "

"And are nice and kind to each other," Rolo interjects.

When Lelouch stares at them curiously, Nunnally explains, "It's what Miss Ceci always tells us about friendship. I also say that to Anya whenever we have a small fight over dolls."

"Right. That is accurate."

"So, we are friends now, Mr. Lamperouge?"

Instead of answering them, Lelouch rises and walks around the table until he is standing before the twins. He can feel that observant eyes of the nanny digging on his back but he doesn't let it bother him. Lowering to their height, Lelouch kneels on one knee and reaches out a hand.

Nunnally and Rolo first look at each other and do what other twins do – talk with their eyes and minds before reaching out with both of their hands and envelope his with their tiny ones.

"We are friends."

Ah, children, how easy they are frightened, how easy they forgive.

* * *

"Let me hear your report."

"We found out that he lived with Mrs. Lamperouge since birth and had been staying with her until he went to the estate."

"And what did he do for a living?"

"He accepts requests for paintings."

"Can you confirm his age?"

"His age is correct."

"Is his mother sick just like what he had said?"

"No, sir. Mrs. Lamperouge is quite healthy."

"Does he have any other connection left in that town?"

"Yes, sir. A friend named Luciano Bradley who sometimes causes trouble, and someone who seems to be Mr. Lamperouge's lover. A certain Miss Kallen Stadtfeld."

"A lover?"

"Mrs. Lamperouge is quite intent of marrying her to her son, if I may add."

Charles zi Britannia looks out of the window of the carriage and watches as the darkness speeds by. The meeting with duke ended up too late for his liking, and now he is headed to the palace at a very late hour to meet with the queen herself. There's a dispute for lands in some estates and a talk of the civilians starting a rebellion has been circulating amongst the nobles. As much as possible, they must kill this gossip before it turns into a solid plan, and before the rebels could recruit members. As the owner of one of the larger lands, the Britannia estate can be at risk of this uprising, though, he always see to it that his people are treated fairly in order to prevent such revolt. It may be an impossible scenario in his land but it is better to be cautious, especially when the twins are still too young for situations like this.

There is his self-claimed son, Lelouch Lamperouge, who he could try to utilize to solve the problem. But trust is still something he has yet to give him now that he discovered some of the lies he had told him during their first meeting. That day when Mr. Lamperouge appeared on his doorsteps, he immediately sent an investigator to investigate about the young man's background.

There's still the possibility of Mr. Lamperouge being his first son, he couldn't deny that, and he can get benefits from that situation, too. Having a son who is old enough to handle other matters of the estate would be a great help to lessen the viscount's worries and ginormous work. He can spend more time with the twins and monitor Ceci's actions, too. Another dilemma that he has to take care of.

Yet, Mr. Lamperouge is lying to him. To get his pity? For a faster acceptance of his claims? He supposes that's what the man is planning. But the viscount does not take liars for granted.

For once you lie, the other lies come easier and more naturally. They will become your second skin until you cannot distinguish the truth from the lie anymore. Until you begin to live in your lies.

Until you cannot stop lying.

He could have thrown him out of the mansion, but the viscount has other plans. After all, it is much better to keep the enemy closer, regardless that that enemy is your own blood. He still have to figure out Mr. Lamperouge's real intentions and whether he has potentials that Charles could use for his own will.

Right, despite Mr. Lamperouge lying to him, Charles zi Britannia is a bigger liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Apologies for this very delayed update. A lot happened last month (work, health, and, re;surrection screenings and hangover) that kept me from writing for this story. So sorry. Anyway, thank you very much for anticipating and following this story. Thank you for your welcoming reviews. I really appreciate them all and they encourage me to write more.
> 
> Also, a big thank you for liking and following my two post-resurrection stories and for giving so much love to our protagonists.
> 
> By the way, recently, I just created a ko-fi account. I hope you'll consider supporting me there, too. I'm still learning about how the website works, though. But you can also reach me through it. Here's my ko-fi account: Ko-fi.com/thesleepyninja15
> 
> I will be forever grateful for all of your kind support to my stories. Have a nice day!


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 

"Was it fair of the king to sacrifice the life of his most trustworthy and bemedalled adviser in order to save the land that never had given him respect and appreciation?"

It is an unusually hot summer day for a place resting in the north, one that turns everything under the sun yellow and bright, heat prickling the napes of the young ones playing bravely outside. Robins merrily chirp from branch to branch singing a happy hymn of carefree indulgence - brown, orange, red - creating a rainbow nest of their own on treetops. It is the sort summer day to be remembered during white Christmases or little tea parties. One that would etch itself on the children's mind, cradling a fuzzy anticipation for the next summer season.

Nunnally wears her blue summer granny dress with sleeves reaching just past her shoulders. Her long wavy brown hair is neatly tied up in a bun, a red ribbon made to secure her tresses like a gift for a birthday party. In order to prevent the patch of reds to spread even more on her skin, the peterpan collar around her neck was tailored slightly wider, allowing fresh air to enter her skin while staving off rashes caused by irritation. Her feet are covered with the softest and most comfortable materials making the girl giggle as she walks for these magical shoes turn everything she sets foot on into clouds.

Meanwhile, her twin brother is dressed in a white cotton button-down shirt thin enough for the air to penetrate into and a pair of navy blue shorts reaching just above his knees. Similar to his sister, Rolo's feet are covered in comfortable shoes.

The twins, with their ever curious purple eyes, stare at the ceiling, a gesture the both them had developed like mirrors, thinking of answers possibly too innocent, too pure for the dark question.

Ceci patiently waits as she leafs through the pages of the story book they just read a few moments ago. Re-reading some parts, she reconsiders if such complicated scenario should be taught to them at an age when they should be playing and running in the garden. But the viscount had specifically tasked the governess to allot a special time to study this book which he purchased during his trip in the Capital.

'The Bitter Sacrifices of War', the title page read. Even she isn't knowledgeable enough to teach such topic. At the most, she tried to explain the context of the book as simple as possible for the twins to remember - likening the morbid parts with the beasts and witches from an ordinary fairytale.

She tucks the few strands of hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear. Stealing a glimpse of the scenery beyond the window, she cannot wait to take a break and rest under the cool shade of a tree as she and the twins munch on their sandwiches. Just the thought of feeling the grass and the breeze already brings her the refreshment that her body desperately craves.

She opted for a baby blue dress with a pair of cape sleeves hoping that some air would flow in, but it is one of those days when heat is nothing but an unwanted company that you couldn't get rid of. Retrieving her handkerchief from her secret pocket, she wipes the trails of sweat on her nape.

"I think the king has a big kind heart," Nunnally begins, toying with the bow between her collars. "He has so much love to give that he could fit all of his people inside his heart. His adviser was there, too. Maybe, he's near the center - beside the queen and the princess. But..."

"But...?" Ceci encourages as a look of uncertainty drapes over Nunnally's face.

"Maybe, there's too many people so he has to make room to accommodate them all. And contrary to what the people believed, the adviser volunteered himself to give his space to others. He did it with the king's permission and forgiveness."

"But why would the king allow that?" Rolo appeals, a crease forming between his brows. "When his people do not love him back? It sounds unwise."

Ceci asks Rolo, "So you think that what he did is unreasonable?"

"I think it is unwise," he adamantly answers with a pout of his mouth. "Now that the adviser isn't on their side anymore, how are they going to win the war? The king just handed the victory to their enemy too easily."

"Then what do you suggest he should have done?" Nunnally asks who, to Ceci's surprise, looks red with denial that her beloved king is reduced to a fool by non-other than her trusted twin.

"I'm not the king in the story thus, it's not my decision to make."

"You just can't think of a _wise_ answer."

"I certainly can. I just don't want to tell you."

At this, Nunnally's annoyed eyes turn to Ceci and it is her cue to intervene and prevent a heated fight to occur which would definitely add to the already scorching temperature. Putting the book down on the center table, Ceci wraps each of her arm around their waists, pulls the twins towards her and begins distracting them with her fingers.

So much sooner, the spirit of fighting dissipates and their scowls are replaced with suppressed giggles that eventually turned into uncontrollable laughter. Laughter that starts at the bottom of their bellies, heaving air too deep until their chest compressed delightfully tight, and finally freeing the sound of ocean waves during sunrise and joyful sprints in the meadow through their mouths.

"Miss Ceci!" Rolo gasps as he struggles to escape his governess's tickling fingers but fails miserably.

On the other hand, Nunnally tries a different strategy and attempts to tickle Ceci back. But the way the older woman is holding them makes it impossible for the young Britannia to reach her target - Ceci's stomach.

"Are you feeling better now?" the governess inquires in between fits of her own giggles.

"We are," _laugh_ , "But this," _laugh_ , "Is no fair!" appeals Rolo.

"What is?"

"Let us tickle you, too... Miss Ceci!" Nunnally is rendered into a puddle of pure merriment. This time, her cheeks are flushed red from the blissful feeling of having a carefree time with her beloved governess and brother.

Feeling merciful, Ceci halts her attacks and grants her wards a chance to retaliate. She takes a deep breath and suppresses her laughter as the twins simultaneously tickle her stomach. Stiff, she dares not to show them any reaction causing Nunnally and Rolo to work even harder until Ceci reaches her limit, until she becomes the one who is at their mercy, until her lungs are desperate for air, and her laugh for release. The Sun Room fills with their uninhibited giddiness, glowing with the light the trio are emitting.

When their laughter finally died down, their lungs stopped struggling for air - jaws aching and throats rough - Ceci tells them that it's time for their break.

Not at all surprise, Ceci listens as Rolo, seconded by Nunnally, politely declines her invitation. Instead, she is given a tight, warm embrace before two small figures run out of the room.

Looks like her dream of having a little picnic outside won't come true today.

Following, she later finds herself standing by the doorway of the Art Room, watching as three busy bodies huddle over a sketchbook.

"Again? He might steal them from you one day."

The governess glances over her shoulder and finds Milly carrying a tray of sandwiches. Ceci only smiles in response and returns her eyes to Nunnally and Rolo who are eagerly watching as Mr. Lamperouge shows them his drawing techniques. With their own little sketchbooks, the little Britannias follow his instructions and ooh and aah in wonder after seeing the product of their learning.

It's been a week since the confrontation in his room. It's been a week since the young man started being nice to the twins. One may consider it as a promising progress, Ceci even welcomed it, though with hesitation lacing her mind. But worry occupies her head as she wonders if his kindness is just for show, if his niceness has a certain time limit. Is he being good to them because he genuinely feels remorseful with what he had told her? Is this an indirect apology from him? If that confrontation never happened, would have he continued being cruel and rude to them? Would he even considered changing his attitude?

Because if this is all for a show to gain the Britannias' trust, she would rather he stop his act and leave the estate at once before he breaks Nunnally and Rolo's hearts. For the twins, a week could be as long as a year, and their attachment and fondness to him are becoming more undeniably strong.

Yet still, there's a part of her believing that this could lead to a positive outcome. Having someone other than their playmates be their 'friend', someone older aside from her and Milly who could teach the twins of matters beyond their knowledge, offering new perspectives and experiences that a plain governess like her couldn't provide, it would be a great help in nourishing the their growth.

Therefore, despite suspicious, she lets them spend time with Mr. Lamperouge after their study time but not without her presence. There's always the risk of him turning away from his words when she is not looking.

"The twins aren't mine to keep," Ceci begins, returning her eyes back to her wards.

"Won't you really tell me what happened after I left?"

The nanny shrugs after Ceci shook her head then serves her masters their snacks. Upon Milly's arrival, Mr. Lamperouge lifts his head and automatically meets the governess's gaze. She reciprocates his slight bow.

For now, what Ceci is certain of is that she and Mr. Lamperouge are in a mutual understanding of civility. And she wants to keep it that way as long as she can.

* * *

Kallen folds the paper and clutches it to her chest like a cherished treasure after reading it for the thirtieth time that week. Yes, she is counting. Yes, she longs for him immensely.

" _My heart aches the distance that separates us as an artist aches for his favorite brush he lost in time. Kallen, my darling, I count the days when we will finally be in each other's arms again. Without you, I am a canvas scarce of color and texture. Without you, I am but a vessel deprived of a soul. This ginormous mansion only amplifies the emptiness and yearning I feel in my heart. Please wait for me, my darling. You're always in my thoughts…"_

The young lady smiles inwardly as she recalls his sweet words. Lelouch seldom shows his genuinely soft, romantic side at her but when he does, he becomes too breathtaking and too intoxicating for her vulnerable heart. Indeed, he is good at seducing woman. One cannot simply ignore the charm of one Lelouch Lamperouge particularly the maidens of their little town. Yet, despite his troubles, it was only to her that he let himself be seen as he truly was. And Kallen feels very special because of that.

But it is already more than a week since his first letter and the redhead is a tad worried.

One might consider her overreacting, but this is the first time they are separated from each other, and all her lonely heart can do is worry and miss him.

Lady Marianne finally arrives and sits on her usual _throne_ in her foyer. She bestows Kallen two kisses on both cheeks before picking her teacup up.

"What's with the gloomy face, my dear?"

Hesitantly, Kallen answers, "I was just thinking of Lelouch's letter."

At the mention of her son's name, the mother's eyes dart towards the letter that is still in the young woman's hands. "You read that again?" she inquires snootily.

"I just miss him too much, ma'am. I am actually thinking of paying him a visit at the state."

"No! You will do no such thing, Kallen."

Her sudden outburst made Kallen jump, startling both of the women. Almost immediately, Lady Marianne composes herself, opens her frivolous fan and fans herself. "It's the heat," she offhandedly says. "I apologize. But dear, I think it is not yet the right time to pay Lelouch a visit.

"May I know why?"

"Well, it's still too early intervene with what he is planning. We may as well turn into nuisances that could cause his failure. Moreover, he told the viscount that I have a severe illness which ties me to my death bed. Now, I can't just prance over there without preparing an explanation for my sudden healing. Trust him. If there was one thing that that son of mine is good at, it would be at being cunning."

Kallen bites her lower lip in disappointment. When Lady Marianne doesn't receive a response, the older woman peers at her with a teasing smile. "You're worried about a different matter all along, don't you?" She then proceeds to chuckle in mixed sarcasm and amusement. "Do not worry, I will see to it that my son will go home to you. There is no other woman who deserves Lelouch more than you. And when you two get married, perhaps, I can have you manage some of the properties, of course, not without my supervision."

But Lady Marianne's reassurance does nothing to prevent Kallen's worry to grow. That afternoon, she finds herself in the pub that her lover frequented with none other than Luciano Bradley himself.

"You want to go to Britannia?" the man asks before taking a gulp of his whiskey.

Kallen averts her eyes from a couple who are starting to get physical – painfully reminding her of what she doesn't have right now – and forces herself to meet Luciano's gaze. "Yes, but Lady Marianne thinks that it is a bad idea."

"Hmmm, then it really must be. Remember, not even Lelouch questions her intuition."

"But - "

"Listen, I believe I know what's getting you anxious as a mother hen. And I can tell you, he had already done _that_."

Vehemently, Kallen shakes her head, a dreadful feeling starting to blossom in her chest. "He wouldn't. He promised me."

Luciano raises one trimmed eyebrow, his glass suspended before his lips. "And when did he ever fulfil a promise? My friend is a good man, but not even good men are immune to temptations. Not certainly Lelouch. Almost all of the women inside this pub had kissed him, Kallen, and most of the time, I witnessed those events."

At that, her cerulean eyes sweep over the place. Taking in the faces of the maidens and married women present, faces she knows and sees everyday, people she had laughed and squealed with over mundane matters, over Lelouch. "Why are you telling me about these? You're supposed to be defending your friend's honor." With shaking hand, Kallen grabs her own glass and drinks the whiskey in one angry gulp. Then she asks for another, until her throat burns with fire of desperation, her eyes stinging with anxiety.

"I'm just trying to help you see things as they really are," Luciano answers nonchalantly.

"Help me?"

Suddenly, the man turns his full body towards her, his fingers begin playing with the sleeves of her dress. Luciano and she are never friends. They are just mere acquaintances who has a common connection through Lelouch. Kallen was there first before Bradley arrived in their lives. She was the childhood friend, the playmate, the first best friend Lelouch ever had. Bradley appeared when they were 16 – a skinny blonde boy wearing a permanent sneer on his face – when Lelouch's rebellious attitude were sprouting due to his mother's lack of support and appreciation. And Bradley came at the right time to ignite, tolerate, and encourage the former's troublesome persona.

Kallen was never fond of the other man and she made her lover know it, too. Thus, Lelouch had separated hers and Bradley's worlds apart. But that came with consequences - consequences involving fights and women - that she would only be aware of after they were already done and her man bruised.

Leaning away from his touch, the redhead gives Luciano a deadly glare. Fortunately, he backs out but settles on a knowing smirk.

"If Lelouch can cheat on you, why don't you do the same? Perhaps, as a revenge? After all, all fair's in love. And I assure you, he wouldn't mind that much."

What?!

Mortified, Kallen rises from her seat, picks her newly-filled glass up and throws its contents to her companion.

"Bastard!"

She doesn't care that her outburst had stolen the whole attention of the pub, catching glances from people who have known her as a woman of good manners and strangers who would probably tell this story to the next town they're heading to. Yes, she doesn't care because she is mad furious at the man sitting before her. How dare he?! Despicable! And he calls himself as Lelouch's best friend? What a fraud!

With her head held high, she leaves the pub. She hears Luciano laugh awkwardly as he tries to dispel the atmosphere she left behind her.

If no one wouldn't help her go to Britannia, she'll find a way herself in order to be in her beloved's arms again.

* * *

"And here he is!"

Lelouch turns to the direction of the familiar bright voice and sees the tall blonde approaching him with a large blinding smile on his face. With familiarity that only close friends possess, Gino hangs his arm around Lelouch's neck. "What took you so long? I've been waiting here for more than a week."

'Here' being the center fountain of the plaza.

"I never said that I'm going to meet you here," the shorter man grumbles as he tries to loosen Gino's hold on him.

"I'm always excited about meeting new people who can potentially turn into friends. Oh, you mentioned that you live in Britannia's Estate, correct?"

The way the man changes the subject reminds Lelouch of his interactions with the twins whose ideas come like endless tsunami - fast and unpredictable.

"I lied. I don't live there but somewhere around the vicinity."

At Gino's frown, Lelouch manages to escape his grip and massage his strained neck. The plaza is a bit quiet tonight unlike before, and that quietness can easily amplify whatever words exchange between them. It was his mistake to carelessly tell Gino the information of his residence in the past. He cannot let anyone know of his identity as long as his status in the Britannias is still in a state of uncertainty. There's always the risk of being taken advantage of especially since he is a stranger in the Capital.

"It's just the most famous landmark that I can think of during that time of confusion and headache," he adds.

"Hmm," Gino nods. "So, what do you need help with?" Putting his hands inside his pockets, he leans against a post.

Getting a box from his pocket, Lelouch lights up a cigarette, offering one to the other man.

"Shirley would get mad at me when she knows about this," Gino says under his breath as he gets a stick.

"Shirley?"

"My fiancé, but her older sister doesn't know yet so I need you to keep it a secret between us."

"Well, I don't have anyone else to reveal it with," Lelouch shrugs.

"Promise me, Mr. Lamperouge. Her sister is worrying on various matters right now and Shirley does not want to add the wedding on her plate. We're in the middle of saving money for the ceremony. We decided to only announce it when everything is ready."

Lelouch is taken aback by the strong persistence in Gino's cerulean eyes that all he can do is nod. When the blonde grabs his hand for a shake, there's nothing he can do but to return the action.

"Good. Now, where shall we go?"

"I need to find a cheap art shop."

"A cheap art shop? Hmmm. I may know a couple of places. Follow me."

It turns out that Gino is a good and admittedly, an entertaining guide. His bright personality never darkens as they navigate through the narrowest and darkest alleys of the capital. He speaks as if laughing. There's a subtle joy in his voice, a lilt in his tone that Lelouch's concluded is innate and natural in him. He literally is the sun personified and everyone who had been in his presence certainly basked in his light.

He helped Lelouch find the cheapest but quality materials without any complains and even shared the secrets in negotiating with the sellers to get the lower prices. Taught him the shortcuts and secret ways in the Capital that could bring him on foot to specific places as fast as riding a horse.

Lelouch feels easy and relaxed with Gino's presence. As much as hates to do it, he couldn't help but compare Luciano to the other man, as early as it is. It's like comparing the sun to the deepest bottom of the sea - too opposite and distant. With Luciano, everything he did rooted from childhood insecurities, stubborn pride, and the need to be the center of attention. Luciano is like the devil in his ear encouraging him to do what he shouldn't which, in the end, he still willingly and proudly did. Luciano is like a shadow, the witness of all his mischiefs and troubles. But with the little time he had spent with Gino, it is evident that the man is nothing but genuine, cheerful and considerate. It's in the way he talked to the shop owners and keepers with respect and friendliness. Or when he chirpily greeted the people they passed by on the streets. And when he stopped to give the food he bought to a beggar.

Is it pathetic of Lelouch to be so awestruck after being under the presence of a good man, who must be considered ordinary in this part of the country? When one grew up in his town, a good man is such a rare sight. Perhaps, if there were a healthy amount of good men back in his home, he wouldn't have grown up the way he did.

After shopping, Gino leads him to a pub, a different one this time, where the former declared that the tab is on him. See? A very good man indeed.

They sit by the bar, amongst the other people unwinding or rewinding their worries in the building.

"If it's not too intruding, may I ask where would you need this much materials?"

Glancing at the packages by his feet, Lelouch answers, "I'm teaching my younger siblings how to paint."

The half-lie slides from his tongue too easily that he himself believed its veracity.

Listen to him calling the little elves as his younger siblings. God, it feels unreal, dizzying. However, he couldn't deny that the past week had been tolerably enjoying as he spent more peaceful time with the twins. Their curiosity and innocence are contagious. The way their eyes would stare at him in wonder whenever he showed them something new and amazing to their young minds gives him a sense of wholesome accomplishment.

Although, there are still times when they are unbearably annoying, especially when they insist to ask questions he would rather not answer.

The case with their governess, on the other hand, is very much different. The horrible words he had spoken to her are still fresh in his mind as the sting of her slap on his cheek and her glassy shiny eyes play repeatedly when he closes his own eyes. Flitting glances and respectful nods are what they had exchanged the past week. No polite greeting, not even a single condescending 'Mr. Lamperouge' and he finds it unsettling.

His mind hasn't rested ever since that day. He is embarrassed, guilty, remorseful for throwing those words out of his inner struggle on how he sees her. The struggle that hasn't left him, too. Instead, it had only strengthened whenever she silently stays with them, most probably, to ensure that he wouldn't harm Nunnally and Rolo anymore.

His confusion continuously grows as he steals glances when she is not looking, when he feels her burning gaze at him when he isn't glancing. It's strange how he is so attuned with her presence, how the hairs on his arms rise when he hears her whispery voice.

He desires her. That he cannot deny anymore. But he doesn't know what to do with a desire such as this. He cannot desire someone like her - someone so distant, and cold, and smart, proper and painstakingly beautiful.

The likes of her are only to be admired from the distance, like a lightning during a storm.

But why is he even thinking of these reasons? It's pretty obvious why he should kill this fire before it burns him.

Kallen.

"How young are they?"

"Seven."

"Twins?"

Lelouch nods before taking a sip of his drink.

"Reminds me of the Britannia Twins. They're of the same age. Say, have you met them? Having living near the estate and all?"

At this, Lelouch shakes his head. "Not yet."

"Hmm. Understandable. The viscount is very much protective of his children. He seldom allows them out in the public. One may consider them as his most prized possessions."

"What do you do?" Lelouch asks, changing the subject.

"Me? Well, I work in my fiancé's cutlery shop. The Fenette's to be exact."

"Cutlery? Then you are knowledgeable about knives."

Gino shrugs. "You can say that."

Reaching inside his pocket, Lelouch gets his knife and shows it to his companion.

"You carry a knife with you?"

"It is a necessity in where I grew up."

"I see. Let me check."

While inspecting his knife, Lelouch expresses his plan to buy a new one and inquires if Gino could help him with that, too. The blonde gladly agrees and invites Lelouch to go to their shop where they offer a wide variety of cutleries.

"That would be great. How about on Sunday?" he asks.

"We're closed during Sundays, but since you are my friend, I can give you a special tour."

"Thank you."

Removing his imaginary hat, Gino bows to him and says, "Gino Weinberg, at your service, Mr. Lamperouge."

"Lelouch. Just call me 'Lelouch'. After all, we are _friends_."

And the smile that Gino gives him is even more blinding than the sun.

They part ways a little before midnight. The mansion is dark and noiseless as Lelouch trudges the long corridor leading to his room. Packages in hands, he stops infront of his door and stares at the room next to his. He tilts his head and listens. Silence. This is why they never knew that they were neighbors. He never saw her enter her room at night and leave it in the morning. But what good does knowing their circumstance much earlier would do to him? It will only add to his restlessness as it does now. Sighing, he grabs the door knob and turns it.

Perhaps, it's time to write Kallen another long romantic letter.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

And so a few more summer nights passed by and Lelouch unexpectedly and unintentionally found himself in the plaza, in the company of a certain sunny man after the sun had set in the horizon.

And so as they had agreed, Lelouch then finds himself inside a humble silverware shop one sunny Sunday morning, surrounded with more bright, accommodating people who he isn't used to mingling with.

"Mr. Lamperouge, allow me to introduce Miss Shirley Fenette, the co-owner of the Fenette Silverware Shop," Gino introduces as a fond smile dances on his lips while looking down at the woman beside him.

Miss Fenette sticks an arm out which Lelouch politely takes. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Lamperouge. I hope that you'll be able to find the knife that would suffice your taste here."

"Nice to meet you, too, Miss Fenette. I'll be in your care for this day then," he answers, noting how young she is to be considered as the owner of a shop that seemed to witness generations.

A large tall man with hair so dark it shines blue under the light steps forward, arms crossed, eyes scrutinizing. "My name is Jeremiah Gottwald, the head shopkeeper, and this is Miss Nina Einstein, my assistant."

Glancing up shyly, a lady with two braided raven ponytails and a pair of glasses meekly greets Lelouch before returning to the side of the bigger man as if to hide using his size.

"My pleasure to meet you all, Mr. Gottwald, Miss Einstein. Gino had been talking highly of you and your neat ways of taking care of the shop."

"Well, Gino tends to exaggerate," Mr. Gottwald answers quite seriously, taking Lelouch aback.

Clearing his throat, the subject of the conversation puts his arm around Lelouch, a gesture that already grew on the latter.

"I believe Lelouch would like to see our products. Thank you for such a jovial greeting, Uncle. Come, Lelouch, I'll show you our bestsellers."

"Remember, you still have work to do, Gino. We are short of men right now," Mr. Gottwald reminds behind them as Gino steers them to a wall where a number of varying types of knives hang.

"I brought a customer today, didn't I?" the blonde good-naturedly responses.

The older man only grunts in return and takes his post behind the counter.

Roaming his eyes on the display before him, Lelouch couldn't help but get impressed by the variety and sophistication each product presented. It is actually such a surprise that this shop, so simple and plain on the outside – one may even overlook it as they pass by – could offer creations that could rival the silverware in the estate. And he is certain that the viscount only purchases from well-established companies. As Lelouch examines each knife before him, he asks, "You've mentioned that the shop's close during Sundays."

"Well, Shirley thought that since you coming today means opening the shop, it is reasonable to just open the shop for the whole day. It would bring additional customers and income to the business, anyway. Do you find anything that pleases your taste?"

"Can I touch them?"

Gino retrieves one short knife with leaves carved on its holder and hands it to Lelouch. Lightly running his finger on the blade, the raven-haired man stares at his face reflected on the metal.

"Let me inspect yours again," says Gino.

Getting his own one from the pocket of his pants, Lelouch gives Gino the worn knife. The latter goes infront of a window where he raises the item before the glaring sunlight. Squinting, the blonde man hums and nods, deliberating his observations in his mind.

Meanwhile, Lelouch gets another knife from the display - this one a little bit longer than the first one with thinner blade. The handle is plain smooth wood, lacking the artistry of the other in his right hand.

"This looks quite dull. Since when is it in your possession?"

"I got it from a trader who passed by our town five years ago. Back then, it rivaled the Excalibur with its beauty," he boasts.

"Have you ever used it?"

"A few times."

"In what way?" This time, Gino's blue eyes are pinned on him like a shark's locked on its prey.

But Lelouch only shrugs and begins throwing the second knife in the air - the blade spinning in mid-air, dangerous and sharp - but safely landing on his hand with the wood in his palm.

"To cut ropes, twigs. To peel apples and to protect myself."

"From what? Do you have enemies?"

Lelouch watches as the shiny metal flashes under the kiss of sunlight. The rush of knowing that a single wrong timing would get him hurt brings him excitement that he had been missing since he came to Britannia – the recklessness, the freedom, that living in a proper and traditional household withheld from him in a few weeks. At one moment, he thought of catching the blade in purpose – feeling the sting and watching the blood flow out of his skin – but quickly remembers the presence of other people and dismisses the idea grudgingly.

" 'Enemies' would be such a specific term. It means that you have a mutual grudge against each other and separate goals that each of you wants to achieve in manners that oppose the other's principles. In my rather unfair situation, I don't have anyone that I consider enemy but somehow, a few unreasonable men would attack me while I walk on the streets of my town."

"And what would be the reason behind their hostility towards you?"

"Ah." A smirk lifts the side of his lips, mischief licks his eyes as he recalls the number of times he was forced to use his favorite weapon, gaining triumphs over men who thought brute force would overpower slyness. Lelouch is not a violent man. He would throw a few punches here and there but only if he was provoked or if it's the only way to get him out of the situation alive. Quite similar with his relationship with his knife.

No, Lelouch hadn't killed anyone and he wouldn't act on such violence as long as the situation is neither a matter of life and death. In fact, most of the encounters only involved cuts on the arms, thighs, cheeks, - only warnings of what could possibly happen if the attacker insists on his harmful motives. Because as much as what Lelouch lacks in physical power, he makes up with strategic actions requiring him little energy to waste and sharp smooth movements that break through his opponent's defense, giving him an unexpected victory despite the size and number of his attackers.

So, he can't help but still feel proud of his ability of outsmarting them even though his mother is never proud of his fights.

He should get rid of his rogue attitude, she had reprimanded during his teenage years with disdain in her eyes, red lips in a frown, cheeks marred with red of shame - shame for what it could do to her reputation, shame for having such a troublemaker son she couldn't control.

Returning the knives to their places, Lelouch glances from the corners of his eyes, addressing the man with practiced nonchalance. "It deeply embarrassed me to reveal this but... Well, I am sort of famous in our town especially with the women."

As if on cue, Gino's gaze travels from his head to toe like a curator studying an artifact. He nods, "Go on."

"And as a gentleman, it would be rude of me to deny them of my attention." Putting his hands in his pockets, Lelouch faces the taller man. "You can say that they were very willing and I was very much accommodating to the attention they showered me because who wouldn't? But unfortunately, some of them, I was unaware, were already betrothed or worse, married." Now, Gino's eyes are full of judgment, sending unwelcomed shivers to Lelouch's skin. He waves his hands to dispel the former's assumptions. "Hear me out; I would not have entertained them if I knew that they were already committed. Too much trouble." A lie. "So those men who attacked me were their lovers, husbands, secret admirers that I knew nothing about."

"Very reminiscent with the encounter with Annalise, then?"

His eyebrows furrow for a moment of confusion. "Annalise? Ah, correct. That is one perfect example, though, to be clear, I was completely intoxicated with alcohol at that time and I thought she was someone I knew."

"Hmmm, I see," Gino hums. "Can I borrow this for a while?" he asks, lifting Lelouch's knife between them. "I'll have our men inspect it. And while I'm gone, you are free to check all of our displays."

"Thank you."

Several minutes have passed, Gino hasn't returned and Lelouch had inspected almost all of the knives and even the other utensils on display. There are a few that caught his curiosity but none had given him the instant connection he had felt with his old one.

He has just put the last knife in his pocket when someone behind him clears his throat. Looking over his shoulder, Lelouch finds Mr. Gottwald, who is polishing a fork with a white cloth – cold metal glaring under the light – eyeing his heavy pocket. Immediately, Lelouch retrieves the knife and hangs it back on the wall.

"I was just testing if it could fit in my pocket," he mutters.

"So! Did anything catch your eyes?"

Gino, in all his sunny glory suddenly appears on his left, hands on his hips, a satisfied smile plastered on his lips. Why he is satisfied, Lelouch has no idea and he is still annoyed from being suspected of stealing a knife to even bother thinking about the reason.

"Unfortunately, no," he answers bluntly before realizing how rude and ungrateful he sounds. His eyes widen as his words sink in and quickly gathers his wits to apologize. "My apologies, what I mean - "

"Good."

Confused. "Good?"

"Miss Fenette thought that it would be better if we just made a customized knife for you out of your old one."

"How would you do that?" A sensation of excited interest creeps in Lelouch's mind.

"Creativity and skills." Both men turn to the light smooth voice and their eyes lay on the shop's owner who is making her way towards them with practiced grace and poise. She settles beside her fiancé, a few steps separating their arms but it doesn't escape Lelouch's sharp eyes how the tips of their index fingers briefly connected – too fast, too secretive – yet he can imagine the spark it must have sent both of the parties. Miss Fenette's eyes – which Lelouch observes is as clear as an expensive jade, the shade of green he had used for painting gemstones ornamenting a noble's neck – lands on him, and somehow, her inquisitive stare feels familiar. "Creativity... Mr. Weinberg had mentioned that Mr. Lamperouge has quite the talent in art, painting to be precise. So then, I thought, it would be lovely if you would have your own touch on the design of the hilt. That would make the item feel more personal and endearing.""

Lelouch smiles pleasantly. "That sounds brilliant, Miss Fenette."

"And the skills will come from our staff who will also do the replacing of the blade."

All of what Miss Fenette has told him brings a tickle of enthusiasm to the raven-haired man. The mere thought of possessing something out of his imagination, out of his own mind, his palm wrapping around the engravings of his art, fills Lelouch's chest witha sense of exhilarating magic of creation. But worry lingers in his mind, for not all creations come free in this world.

Suddenly, he is nervous of the great possibility that he wouldn't be able to afford such price and his desire would crumble into dust. "And how much would it cost me?"

Lelouch braces himself as Miss Fenette takes a step forward. His mind is already conditioned that such act from a businessman only meant the unpleasant process of price negotiation. So, he is rendered speechless when he heard the lady's next words. "We decided to give it to you for free."

"For free?" he disbelievingly repeats.

Miss Fenette nods. "Yes, but in return, I would like to ask for your assistance in repainting our signage outside. The former painter in the village sadly passed away last week leaving no one with artistic talent such as him in his place."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Miss Fenette nods solemnly. "He was admired here... Our signage was one of his works and he consistently repainted it twice a year. But when his illness took over his body last year, he wasn't able to do what he loved anymore."

"I understand," Lelouch says. "I'll do my best to continue his work."

"Perfect! Your efforts will be very much appreciated, Mr. Lamperouge."

On his way back to the mansion, Lelouch encounters a little mishap in the plaza where two burly men intentionally bump against his shoulders causing him to stagger a few steps back and habitually glare at the strangers.

"Do you think you can take us, lad?" the thicker man challenges, violence sparkling in his eyes while cracking his meaty fingers. Lelouch's reaches inside his pocket but is instantaneously reminded that he has nothing to depend on except for his physical strength, which unfortunately, wouldn't be of much help in the situation.

_"A piece of advice," Gino had said before Lelouch left the shop that afternoon, "The capital is a vast dangerous place. Beneath its life and extravagance lies the war for power and authority. As someone who is new in the place, it is better for you to choose your battles. You never knew who you might be picking a fight with, you never knew whose lady you are spending the night with. You might find yourself badly beaten, or worse lifeless if you won't be careful."_

His gaze jumps between the men, a sigh, a grudging acceptance of his defeat, a surrender for now. Tipping his hat until it slightly covers his eyes, he quietly says, "My apologies, gentlemen. I wasn't looking at where I am going."

"Be careful, young man. This city will devour you if you bump on the wrong people," the stranger sneers before walking away.

That night, Lelouch stands outside the mansion, cigarette in mouth, looking over the wide expanse of the garden. That night, Lelouch does not join the Britannias for dinner, not exactly in the mood to mingle with the endless energy of the twins and the doting nature of the viscount.

Instead, he chooses to spend the night in the silence of darkness while contemplating what he had accomplished during his month-long stay in the estate so far.

His eyes focus on the glowing orange tip of his cigarette and watch as smoke forms ghostly figures like nightmares. He has always been fascinated with the mystery that lies in the shapelessness of smoke. At a young age, he would find himself getting hypnotized just by watching smoke come out of his mother's pots when she cooks. When he was older and became the cook himself, the smoke turned to an entertaining companion, enchanting him of its silent grace and language. And that's the main reason why he started smoking cigarettes when he was eighteen. He wanted to understand its language. He wanted to control it on his own. But so far, he's still a slave of its mystical beauty and he isn't complaining.

After consuming all of his sticks, he then craves for a bottle of exquisite wine to ease the knots in his veins. A few moments later and he finds himself in the kitchen - not the main kitchen where the cooks do most of their duties and prepare the main dishes - but in the second kitchen - the one which is smaller (though for Lelouch, it is still larger than what he was used to), with lesser clutter and cooking materials. He rummages through the hanging cabinets, searching for the spare wine bottles that were deemed undeserving to be kept in the cellar but still tasteful nonetheless. He lets out a triumphant but whispery 'Aha!' as his hand wraps around a smooth surface and delightedly retrieves the bottle from its hiding place. He is about to leave the kitchen when he notices a soft brighter glow coming from the other side of the wall that divides the kitchen into two. Looking around, he wonders if he hasn't been alone all along. Did someone see him getting the wine? What he did does not count as stealing, didn't it? Yet there's not a single soul within the vicinity that might have caught him getting some disregarded wine. With his soles lightly touching the floor, hand around the bottle's neck, he soundlessly and slowly approaches the wall, stealthy as a cat.

And what, or rather, who he finds on the other side is someone he never expected to see in this place, alone.

" _Miss Corabelle does not eat with us."_

" _Because she is not mama."_

Her back is as straight as a stick as she takes a spoonful of soup to her mouth. As if being watched (which she really is though without her knowing), she chews her food in little movements, her jaw barely moving making Lelouch wonder, with furrowed eyebrows and wrinkled forehead, how the hell would she be able to finish fast with the manner of her eating. Strands of her hair escape from her pristine bun and she tucks them behind her ear only to slip again and almost dip into the soup. Sighing, she puts the spoon down and fixes her bun. For a brief moment, Lelouch catches her with her hair completely down for the very first time and for a second, he forgets how to breathe. Only when she resumes eating that he finally releases the air that he held like a balloon deflating to an ordinary rubber. It is all peaceful and well again, the bottle of wine forgotten in his hand when all of a sudden she succumbs to a coughing fit. He watches her struggle as her eyes water, her chest heave until her elbows rest on the table, her forehead on her palm. He watches there, torn between maintaining his concealment and abandoning his hide out in order to pat her back.

Gradually, her coughing subsides until it is rendered into little hiccups and she is finally able to drink some water.

"Oh, good heavens," she helplessly mutters.

So this is where the governess eats her meals. This is how she takes her meals - alone and secluded with no one to help her in case of an eating mishap.

With flushed cheeks, she wipes the tears with the heels of her palms so much like how a child would after crying. Scattered little sniffs here and there, a deeper than usual breathing process, and she proceeds to finish her food.

Lelouch turns away, leans his back against the wall and slides down to the floor. With his one leg stretched infront of him and the other bent, he uncaps the bottle of wine (as silent as he could) and stays there, until he hears the scraping of wooden legs against the marble floor, and leaves the kitchen before Miss Corabelle finds him on the other side of the wall.

Disappearing in the dark as fast as smoke dissolves in the air.

* * *

"What do you think of Lelouch?"

"Lelouch?"

Shirley raises a friendly eyebrow as she lifts her face up from the freshly-picked flowers that her beloved gave to her. "You seem to be thoroughly familiar with each other despite just meeting him a few days ago."

Gino shrugs, picks a daisy from the bouquet and puts it behind Shirley's ear. Blushing, the lady bites her lower lip and returns her eyes to the pretty flowers.

"We are good friends," he answers with a hint of a smile in his voice.

"You give your trust away too easily, my love," she whispers. "Well, based on what you have told me about his circumstances in his hometown, Mr. Lamperouge seems like a trouble-maker hiding behind a decent appearance."

It's Gino's turn to raise a brow. " 'Decent appearance'?"

Rolling her eyes, Shirley leans her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes. Ah, she loves spending peaceful times like this with him – so openly on the outskirts of town, fresh meadow air gracing their sun-kissed skin, birds sweetly chirping on the sky high above, the fragrance of wild flowers invading their noses as they sit beside each other on a large rock with butterflies flying around them.

She can clearly see it, how simple yet happy their life would be when they are finally married to each other. A house big enough to accommodate their family, eating meals together with their perhaps two, or may be three children. Oh, Shirley would love to have a daughter whose blonde hair and smile came from her father. Maybe they would own a dog, too. The big furry but gentle kind that will play with the children during the day, and snuggle with the adults at night. On Sundays, they will go to church together with their Aunt Ceci who'll stay until lunch time. Their Aunt Ceci who is done being a governess of the Britannian Estate and with a family of her own.

Shirley never dreamed of a luxurious life. All she desires is to spend her life with her loved ones, and spend it long and warm. She is a simple girl from a simple town, and simple things make her happy.

"Well, impressive appearance," she corrects, "Even you can see that, right?" she teasingly asks.

Gino lets out a chuckle and it rumbles her core. "I do. I do. And I am certain that Mrs. Smith saw that, too," he says with nostalgia in his voice. "So, a trouble-maker? Hmmm."

"But you see something beneath his skin, don't you? That's why you bother to befriend and take him to the shop despite knowing him for only a short period of time."

He nods. "Go on."

"And that's also the reason why you suggested to make a customized knife for him – to keep him away from trouble as long as possible."

"You really know me well, darling." Leaning forward, Gino gives him a light and sweet kiss on the lips. For a moment, Shirley is heady and all she can think of is pulling him back again and kissing him for much longer, much deeper until her lungs are aching, her heart bursting. She wants and loves to run her fingers into his golden strands, feeling the soft tendrils of his crown as they tickle her cheeks. In moments of weakness – when work in the day had been too grueling, too busy to even spare a single greeting, or when Gino has to deliver products to far away customers – the distance and tiredness would overwhelm Shirley that when they are finally together, huddled infront of her little fireplace, whispers of love words, gestures of intimate actions would fill the quiet atmosphere until their longing for each other is completely sufficed.

She feels guilty for keeping such a wonderful part of her life from her sister – a part that will soon become her whole world – but Ceci already has her plate filled with enough worries that Shirley decided to only reveal the engagement when she and Gino have the preparations done. Uncle Jeremiah and the others have been very helpful and understanding about their situation. They, too, have sworn secrecy and ever since Ceci's last visit, everyone has been hard at work in order for the shop to earn more income that the sisters desperately both needed.

Which reminds Shirley of an equally important matter…

"Were you able to send the letter to Ceci?" she asks Gino who had made his head comfortable on her lap.

"I was. I went to the post office before meeting with Lelouch. It's truly surprising that the Guilfords would resort to such action in order to solve the problem. I suppose they know the eventual result of their decision will suddenly come, but to think that they still went on and did it," he shakes his head in disappointment, "The consequences will be awful for their business and family."

"If I'm not mistaken, the palace also uses silverware from them," Shirley says with a frown. Just thinking of the Queen eating with a pair of rusty spoon and fork is an idea that is utterly horrifying.

"Well, isn't this a good opportunity for us to infiltrate the royalties?" Grabbing her left hand, Gino mindlessly intertwines their fingers on top of his stomach. "I'll find someone in the city who knows a connection to the palace. Then, I'll subtly try to convince them to purchase to our shop."

"That wouldn't be easy."

"But we've got to try. For our future. For Ceci's principles."

Shirley directs her eyes to the greenery before her, the wide expanse of grass with occasional assortment of wild flowers scattered among them. She can clearly see their past - them as young children who played all day under the sun, trying to squeeze all of the days, weeks they were separated in a matter of hours of simple playdates until it was dinner, and the next day, early in the morning - too early for a young Shirley to wake up - and it was time for Ceci to come back to the estate.

And always, on the rare times that her older sister visits them, Ceci would adamantly say how she wouldn't let history repeat itself to their children. Oh, dear Ceci, you worry too much about the sake of others, who does worry about you?

Of course, Shirley does, but distance keeps her worries only as that and all she can do is to help Ceci from afar.

But now, now she can take actions on her worries.

"We've got to try," she silently repeats, contemplating. Then with a resolute voice and eyes of determination, she declares, "We will try."

* * *

There's a rat. A big rat, she concludes, roaming around the second kitchen. A rat that might be as large as her forearm, so large that it could produce large sounds.

Lately, it is always there during dinner. Beyond the dividing wall, running over the cabinets, knocking on woods, tapping the door.

She will halt her chewing only to listen for the rat's footsteps. Sometimes, the rat bumps onto bottles.

She had reported her observation to Mr. Darlton on a Tuesday morning but that night, the older man went back to her with news of failure to catch, and even see the rat.

Now, Ceci worries that the pest might bring diseases to the family. On the nights she spends in the kitchen, she sits on alert, listening carefully to her surroundings with the hopes of catching a glimpse of the mysterious rat.

She warned the twins about its presence and asked them to refrain from going to the second kitchen for the meantime while the rat is still loose and is a potential cause of danger. She told them how it always runs around during dinner and how she has to eat fast now for fear of it jumping into her food. Alarmed, Nunnally and Rolo promised not to venture to that place until the rat is caught. But Nunnally asked, "Can we keep it as a pet?"

Somewhere further in the room, the governess heard someone coughing behind her and when she turned around, she found Mr. Lamperouge, sitting on the couch, all red and embarrassed. When she asked if he was alright, the man only waved at her then left the room.

Puzzled, she returned her attention back to the twins and made Mr. Lamperouge as an example of what illnesses a dirty rat could bring to the household.

* * *

A rat.

He is reduced to a rat. A pest.

The situation is hilariously annoying that all he can do is stand by the corridor, lean against the closed door of the Sun Room, and muffle his laughter with his hand. Shoulders shaking, chest vibrating, his suppressed laughter catches the attention of a few servants passing by earning him strange glances.

Oh, Miss Ceci, a rat really? Can't you think of other animals to suspect, perhaps a cat? A cat would definitely be much of a better representation.

Nonetheless, it seems like he hasn't been as stealthy as he thinks he is. His actions will be soon discovered if this course of situation persisted.

So that night, the rat magically disappeared in the kitchen, and to the family's surprise, Lelouch rejoined the Britannias in their dinner table.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Mr. Lamperouge! Mr. Lamperouge!"

Lelouch looks up from the paper where he is sketching his design for his knife which shall be given to Gino later when they meet at the plaza that night. What he thought would be an easy and smooth task to do was proven to be one of his works that is hard and slow to conceptualize. From the very beginning, he had a design in mind - one that exudes strong masculinity and handsome authority - yet when his pencil meets paper, each line, each curve seems to be asymmetrical, crooked and unconnected. It annoyed him tremendously how his hands couldn't execute what his brain dictates, thus, it is only now, almost a week since his visit to the shop, that he is able to formulate something that meets his meticulous standards. The fresh scent of the garden and the pleasantly warm rays of the sun fuel his creativity that he lost track of time while sitting on the grass.

He finds the little elves running towards him, arms up in the air. However, the differing expressions on their faces bring a curiosity to the man. Rolo with a wide, excited smile on his lips, eyes sparkling with childish self-assurance while Nunnally carries a little irritated frown, wrinkles forming on her forehead as her eyebrows furrow in dismay.

Putting his sketchbook aside, Lelouch waits until they reach his place, panting yet energetic.

"Mr. Lamperouge!" Rolo exclaims with exuberance.

"What is it, elf boy?" he replies as he watches the little one catch his breath - back bent forward, hands on his knees. From where since they started running? Instantly, Lelouch's eyes jumps behind them, expectant of a certain green-haired lady trailing behind. But there is none. Even the nanny is out of sight.

"Do you know how to ride a horse?"

"I do. Why do you ask?"

"Oh. Oh! Can we - "

All of a sudden, Nunnally's hand covers her brother's mouth and she throws Lelouch a pleading look. "Please do not listen to him, Mr. Lamperouge. Miss Ceci will be angry at us."

With all his strength, Rolo removes Nunnally's hand away from his face, quickly kneels beside Lelouch, and says in a rush, "Can we ride horses today, please? Will you come with us, Mr. Lamperouge?"

Lelouch stares at Rolo's soft lavender eyes before turning to the other child.

"Why would Miss Ceci be angry at you?"

"Because we can't ride horses until we are ten years old," Nunnally proudly answers.

"And why is that?"

"Because that's what papa said."

"Well, elf boy," he begins as he returns his attention back to the boy whimpering beside him, "We have to adhere to the viscount's orders."

"What is 'adhere'?" he innocently asks.

"We have to stick to your father's orders. Obey them."

His explanation only heightens Rolo's persistence. Adamant, the child's hands are tightly curled into fists. "But Mr. Steiner lets Leon ride a horse with him every Sunday."

"Who is Leon?"

It is Nunnally who answers. "He is our friend, Mr. Lamperouge. But listen, Rolo. I don't think Leon really ride horses every Sunday because he is still afraid to ride on my toy pony."

Rolo only ignores her and continues to insist on his request. "He called me a 'baby' because I haven't been on a horse before," he complains, his lips in a bitter pout. "I want to show him that I am not a baby anymore."

"We should just tell Miss Ceci about what he said so she can talk to Miss Nu and then Miss Nu will tell Leon that what he said was wrong," Nunnally suggests in the background which earns her a glare from her brother.

"That will make him think that I really am a baby. Please, Mr. Lamperouge, just one ride, please?"

Lelouch's gaze jumps from Rolo whose arms are tightly wrapped around his to Nunnally who has her arms crossed infront of her.

" _You can show your genuine regret by starting to be nice with Nunnally and Rolo.""_

Gnawing his lips, Lelouch mulls over what he is supposed to do to alleviate both of the children's worries – decision that would compromise both of the parties' arguments.

"Where is Miss Ashford?" he asks.

"We left her napping in our room," replies Rolo.

The confusion in his eyes must be evident that Nunnally quickly supplies the explanation. "We woke up earlier than her."

Lelouch nods. "And Miss Corabelle?"

"She is in the kitchen talking to Mr. Darlton," again, Rolo answers.

"We saw them when we went to the kitchen to get snacks. We left because they are talking about grown-up matters."

"I see. I see."

And the viscount is out on his daytime duties. Hm. His eyes flit between the twins and he watches them squirm as they await his decision.

Weighing the situation, Lelouch could only come up with a solution that seems to be the lesser evil.

"Well then," he announces as he rises from the grass. Following his lead, Rolo stands beside his sister, both nervous but anticipating. "After a thorough deliberation of your equally important sentiments..." Placing his hands behind his back, he walks back and forth infront of the twins, in the act of looking very much troubled and helpless, "I suppose that it is alright for a horse-riding activity today." He immediately holds up a finger when Rolo was about to scream in joy and Nunnally was about to protest in dismay. "But there will be certain conditions that should be fulfilled or else all of us will be in trouble. Do you understand?"

Rolo nods enthusiastically. Nunnally remains mute.

"First, you will ride the horse with me. You shall not ride one individually."

Just from the first condition, the Britannia boy is ready to appeal but Lelouch halts him by clearing his throat for emphasis. "That or we won't do anything at all."

"I understand," answers Rolo in a deflated voice.

"Second, we shall only go within the bounds of the fences. We won't be going to the forest for there are dangerous animals roaming in the shadows. Third, you shall do what I say. If I say that we are going back to the mansion, we will go back to the mansion even though you feel like staying outdoors for a little longer. Is it clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Lamperouge."

"Fourth, this is only for today. After this, you won't be riding horses until you are ten. And fifth and the most important condition is to keep this a secret from the viscount, from Miss Ashford and most especially from Miss Corabelle. Understand?"

"We understood, Mr. Lamperouge." When Nunnally didn't join him in answering Mr. Lamperouge, Rolo nudges his sister only to be reciprocated with a glare.

Lelouch bends down to their level and meets their eyes. "You have to promise me," he says in a serious tone. "No one is going to know about it or else we will all get in trouble. Promise me."

"I promise with all my heart, Mr. Lamperouge." With his short fingers, Rolo draws a cross over his heart.

Lelouch turns his eyes to Nunnally who had been worryingly silent throughout his whole speech. He can tell that the young girl isn't particularly impressed with his plan, but he has to ascertain that she wouldn't tattle. "Elf girl... Can you do all of my conditions?"

It is after a few more hesitant seconds that the child is able to answer. Glancing at her brother, Nunnally bites her lower lip as she lightly nods and says in a small voice, "I can. I promise, Mr. Lamperouge."

"Do you really?"

"I do."

Satisfied, he claps once causing Rolo to perk up and Nunnally to flinch. "Well then, little elves," he begins as he stares down at them with playful mischief, "Are you ready to meet unicorns and Pegasus?"

* * *

It turns out that riding horses is not as fun as Leon made it out to be. He enjoys it, Rolo does, but it doesn't give him the thrill that he expected he would have when he is finally on one. Instead, it makes his stomach feel funny the longer he rides on Pegasus. Indeed, that's the name of the handsome black steed they are riding right now. But the young boy won't tell Mr. Lamperouge about his uncomfortable situation. After all, he was the one who insisted for this activity to push through and it would be such a disrespect to Mr. Lamperouge's efforts if he would complain about his tummy.

But truly, riding in a carriage is far more pleasant and comfortable than this.

"Are you alright, little elf? You have been quiet."

Rolo's hands tightens around the reins as Pegasus neighs for the nth time. At the very least he must look like he is enjoying. At the very least, he should look like that to Nunnally who is waiting for her turn on the other side of the fence.

"I'm quite fine, Mr. Lamperouge."

"I expected more excitement coming from you now that you are finally riding a horse."

Rolo's eyebrows furrow as he tries to find an excuse. "I just don't want to make Pegasus afraid." A lightbulb. "Mr. Lamperouge, why do you keep calling us 'little elves'?" he inquires changing the subject so as to distract the both of them, his head tilted up to look at the head above his.

"Because you are little and are like elves with the way you scamper around the mansion," Mr. Lamperouge answers simply. He slightly pulls the reigns as they reach a corner turning Pegasus to the other direction.

"How?"

"Hmm. You don't walk. Instead your tiny feet shuffle with tiny steps creating tiny squeaky sounds on the floor."

"Have you seen a real elf, Mr. Lamperouge?"

A small smile appears on the older man's lips. "Oh, I have."

Curious, Rolo twists his body towards his companion - as far as his spinal cord would allow to be twisted - and waits eagerly for Mr. Lamperouge's next words, completely forgetting the funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Where?"

Those sharp violet eyes turn on him sparkling with a glint of playfulness.

"Sitting infront of me."

It takes a moment for Rolo's young mind to catch Mr. Lamperouge's joke, his innocence too pure for such implication but when he does, tomatoes grow on his cheeks, his lips pout as he throws his scariest glare to his companion who only laugh at his reaction. He poses such impolite expression that he worries for Miss Ceci seeing what he did.

Miss Ceci... Oh, Miss Ceci!

"What about Miss Ceci?"

"What about the governess?"

"What is she? Is she an elf, too?"

Mr. Lamperouge chuckles as he shakes his head in what Rolo could assume is amusement. "Far from it. Miss Corabelle is not an elf."

"Then what is she?"

"A witch."

For the second time in a minute, the idea takes more time to sink in to Rolo's brain. The impossibility of such comparison, how those two concepts lay at the farthest ends of the rope, so opposite like the day and night, is too much for Rolo to comprehend that he could only utter, "May I beg your pardon?"

To him, Miss Ceci is comparable to a fairy. One who grants wishes, who brings happiness to children, whose words are magic, whose voice a song that lulls him to sleep. And to think that Mr. Lamperouge likened her to a witch. A witch! One who poisons the princess, who curses the king, whose words are spells, whose voice brings nightmare to his sleep. How unthinkable!

Surely, Mr. Lamperouge must be mistaken. But his assumption was proven wrong when the older man says, "Do not tell her, little elf."

"But why, Mr. Lamperouge?"

"Because she will not understand."

Rolo shakes his head. "That's not what I meant. Why is Miss Ceci a witch?"

Raising a brow, Mr. Lamperouge retorts, "Why she isn't?"

More confused, Rolo could only answer with argument which based on his own seven-year experience of being the governess's charge. "Because she is good people. She takes care of us real well. She's patient with me during our piano lessons. She never gets mad at us even when we are being naughty, and sometimes she gives us cookies even though it is not yet time to have cookies but that is a secret. See? Miss Ceci is not a witch. She is a fairy."

"A fairy?" Mr. Lamperouge scoffs.

"But she is!"

"Hush, little elf. We are at the end of our journey." Following Mr. Lamperouge's gaze, Rolo is surprised to realize that they are about to arrive where a sullen Nunnally is waiting. The ride is over and he completely forgets about his tummy.

"Mr. Lamperouge?"

"What is it?"

"Perhaps, you are not looking at the right places."

"What are you talking about?"

Looking up, Rolo fixes his steady gaze to the man behind him. "Or maybe, you have not been looking at all. Miss Ceci is not a witch. You just have to look closely and look long."

The young Britannia did not see the startled expression of his friend for he had already turned around and is excitedly waving at his sister.

As soon as his feet meet grass, Rolo runs towards Nunnally and quickly narrates with exaggerated gestures his rather decent horseback riding experience.

"Come, elf girl. It's your turn," Mr. Lamperouge calls with an outstretched hand, knees bent to match her height but to their surprise, Nunnally shakes her head.

She puts her hand on top of her stomach and says, "I don't feel well, Mr. Lamperouge."

Mr. Lamperouge narrows his eyes. "Are you certain?"

She nods. "I am."

"This is the only time that I'll be offering my help regarding riding horses. The next time you'll be on one is when you are ten. Are you truly certain that you don't want to?"

"Come on, Nunnally. Don't waste your chance. It's really fun! Are you afraid? Pegasus is a nice horse. Perhaps, you don't want a black horse. We can ask Mr. Lamperouge to get Luna, right, Mr. Lamperouge?" encourages Rolo.

"I don't feel really well. I actually want to go back to the mansion now."

"Hmmm..."

As Mr. Lamperouge calls for the stables keeper to tend to Pegasus, Rolo goes to his sister's side and worriedly inquires, "Are you sick?"

"I'm not feeling well," Nunnally repeats while staring at the grass.

"Let's tell Miss Milly when we get back. She will know what to do." He grabs her right hand and squeezes it in assurance.

"Alright, little elves. We will be heading back to the mansion." Going between the twins which forces their hands to let go, Mr. Lamperouge holds their hands and begins tracing their way back. "Remember what you promised. This will stay as a secret among us. Can I count on you?"

"Yes, Mr. Lamperouge," is Rolo's instant answer.

Nunnally never responds.

* * *

Ceci wonders, had she never looked up from the book she was reading, would  _she_ even do something to make her presence known? How long has she been silently standing by the door of the library? Why didn't she approach her at once just like what she always does? Why is there worry and fear in her gentle purple eyes?

All her musings are slowly answered as Nunnally - who is now sitting beside her - hesitantly gazes up at her.

"What is wrong?" Ceci asks as she smoothens her charge's soft, wavy, brown hair. When Nunnally remains quiet on her seat, Ceci changes tactics. "Where is Rolo?"

"He is with Mr. Lamperouge."

"Then will you tell me what is bothering our little Miss Nunnally?"

Nunnally bites her lips and Ceci can clearly see the conflicting emotions mirrored on her lavender eyes making her quite worried now.

Then, the young Britannia whispers, "Miss Ceci, I promised to not tell anyone but..."

"But?"

Blinking, Nunnally scratches her cheek - a gesture she sometimes does when she is uncomfortable. "Please don't get mad but Rolo rode the horse today."

"What?"

"I told him that we shouldn't because papa said so but he convinced Mr. Lamperouge and Mr. Lamperouge made us promise not to tell anyone because we will get in trouble but we also broke our promise to papa and… and…" With wide scared eyes, Nunnally asks, "Are we going to Hell for being naughty children?""

Instantly, Ceci shakes her head as she gathers the girl in her arms, comforting the latter's fears and worry. "No. Of course not.""

"But Father Bartley said last Mass that children should always obey their parents, that means that children who don't are bad people and bad people go to Hell. Miss Ceci, I don't want for us to go to Hell."

"You're not going anywhere but where you are loved and cared for. The viscount, Miss Milly and I won't let anything bad happen to the both of you. You mentioned Mr. Lamperouge?"

Slightly comforted, Nunnally tears herself away from the embrace to hesitantly nod at the governess's question. "Yes. But please don't be mad at him, Miss Ceci. He only did that so Leon would stop making fun of Rolo.""

"I understand." Ceci rises from her seat with Nunnally's hand in hers. By the doorway, the young Britannia tugs at her hand halting their unhurried steps.

Without looking up, voice helpless, Nunnally murmurs. "They will be mad at me for telling you our secret. Rolo may not talk to me forever."

Ceci puts her index finger under the child's chin and lifts her face to meet her anxious gaze. Ceci hopes that her gentle expression will ease some of Nunnally's innocent qualms if not make them completely go away. Moments like this reminds her that despite being twins, despite being together all the time, thinking almost the same way and with almost similar principles and manners, Nunnally and Rolo are still two different individuals, two children who will not always agree on all matters, who will fight every now and then about things they see differently, who also consider different sets of rights and wrongs from each other. And as they get older, their differences will be more prominent, more undeniable and inevitably, those will cause arguments and misunderstandings between the two. It's a matter of good upbringing and proper guidance so at the end of the day, they will still be each other's strength and conscience. At the end of the day, their bond grows like a sturdy tree and will not tear like a worn out rope.

"They will be mad at you," she says seriously. "Promises are very important commitments you do with another person. Breaking one will make them sad and yes, angry. When you promise someone that you'll do something, they put their trust in your words. So you should always be careful on making promises. Make promises that are sincerely from your heart and ones that won't bring nightmares in your sleep. But, do not worry, my child," she smiles at her encouragingly, "I'll talk to them so they wouldn't be too mad at you, especially Rolo. Your brother is a good boy. His heart wouldn't carry such big anger but only love and understanding. Just like you." Ceci lightly pinches Nunnally's cheek to lighten up the mood and she is granted with a small smile.

They find the pair inside the Art Room where Mr. Lamperouge and Rolo are behind large sketchbooks, their faces completely blocked by the material.

Ceci does not announce their presence at once and listens to the exchange of words between the older man and the young boy.

"Is this alright, Mr. Lamperouge? I tried to draw the right shape but my pencil cannot draw it."

"Ah, yes, it's totally the pencil's fault. Perhaps, we should buy a new one, eh? If only man invented pencils that perfectly obey the artist's imagination, maybe, we won't be having a hard time drawing now."

At this, Rolo giggles as he says, "But everyone will be good at it then. No one will stand out. Sketching shall be as ordinary as eating and not a special talent as it is now."

"You've got a great point there, elf boy. Now, is that her hair? You can put more waves here, and curve lines to add texture. Yes, that's it.""

It still makes Ceci stop on her tracks whenever she listens to the good-natured and surprisingly thoughtful conversations occurring between Mr. Lamperouge and the twins. Somehow, the times that the man showed undesirable manners towards the children are slowly fading into faint memory overpowered by moments like this where only friendly words, and even learnings are exchanged between them. And Ceci loves to listen. She cannot deny it for she, too, learns just from listening to Mr. Lamperouge's art lessons. Admittedly, her drawing skills also improved upon applying his techniques though she never verbalized that to him.

And surprisingly, Mr. Lamperouge is good with children if he puts his heart and mind on it.

"I regret to interrupt your wonderful time together," she announces instantly catching the attention of the two.

"Miss Ceci!" Rolo quickly puts his sketchbook down and runs towards his governess.

"Hello, dear. What are you up to?" she asks.

"Mr. Lamperouge and I are sketching people! He taught me how to draw hair properly."

"That sounds exciting. Well, can I borrow Mr. Lamperouge for a while?"

Farther into the room, the man in subject playfully responds, "Can she, elf boy?"

With the attention suddenly on him, Rolo's head whips back and forth the adults who he both adores. "Yes, you can, Miss Ceci. I can teach Nunnally what she misses while waiting for you."

"Thank you, Rolo. Be good to each other, alright? Miss Milly will be with you shortly."

She takes them to the Sun Room – a floor beneath the Art Room, somewhere the children wouldn't be able to hear, or worse eavesdrop their conversation and have them misunderstood it.

The soft sunlight gracefully passes through the closed windows, keeping the room warm and as sunny as it should be to live up its name.

Ceci then realizes that this will be their first proper conversation after that confrontation in his room. No more flitting glances, no more subtleties and concealed attention. They will be out in the open and finally, meeting eye-to-eye after several days.

They stand infront of one of the windows with a few steps bridging the gap between them. Their shadows form unmoving towers on the floor, deeply rooted on their places. Ceci keeps her hands clasp on top of her stomach while Mr. Lamperouge casually puts his hands in his pockets.

"I heard that you went horseback riding with Rolo earlier with the knowledge of the viscount's order," she calmly begins, golden eyes unwavering.

"I see that someone had broken her promise of not telling anyone," Mr. Lamperouge shrugs.

"Please, Mr. Lamperouge, I am not here to argue with you but to talk about how we must guide the children to learnings and manners of good values especially when they find themselves in situations where they are caught between what the adults told them and how they feel about such things."

A nod then a sigh. The man touches the side of his neck, a sheepish expression reflected on his face. "I apologize for that. Rolo just seemed to be troubled by his friend's words and I wanted to at least help ease up some of his worries.""

"Thank you."

"Pardon?"

She knows she caught him by surprise with the way his violet eyes widen and his mouth left hanging open. But indeed, she is grateful to him for thinking about her ward's feelings and making it a priority during that moment. She gives him a small smile to emphasize her sincerity but it seems like it rendered Mr. Lamperouge speechless for a longer time.

"Thank you for considering Rolo's feelings. I believe that you acted on what you thought was right. Nunnally told me about what happened and asked me not to be mad at you. I am not, Mr. Lamperouge, even if she didn't tell me. So I hope that you wouldn't scold her for breaking her promise. She, too, was just acting on what she believed was right.""

"I wouldn't. She was opposed with the idea from the very beginning so this doesn't come as a surprise. But... Does this mean that you won't tell the viscount?"

Ceci shakes her head. "But we have to classify situations wherein the adults mustn't give in to the children's requests from situations that will help them discover and grow into respectable grown-ups."

"I understand your concern, Miss Corabelle and I believe your intentions are well." Mr. Lamperouge raises one long finger. "But can I say something?"

She nods once. "I would gladly hear it."

"I think the twins need to let themselves loose. Let them play without worrying what should and shouldn't be done. Let them be children, which they really are."

Tilting her head to the side, Ceci's eyebrows furrow forming lines of confusion as she tells the man before her, "They are allowed to play anytime as long as they are done with their lessons. They have regular playdates with their friends, too. I'm afraid I do not get your point, Mr. Lamperouge."

"My point is," he takes a step forward, voice careful as his eyes gaze at her with caution, "Let them make mistakes at least once, let them run on the lawn without the fear of getting their dresses dirty, let them get dirty. Allow them to break orders - that is if such orders are deemed unreasonable, or against the greater good. Have them ride horses before they are ten."

"And what would they gain from being... being... " With the lack of finding a better word, Ceci could only end her question with the word "rascals" but even that feels so wrong to use while referring to the sweet twins.

The man takes another step forward and Ceci has to tilt her head higher so as to meet his glimmering amethyst eyes. "Lessons," he says in a low smooth voice that rumbles her chest, "Experiences, independence that people who stick to the rule miss out. Sometimes, breaking the rules is the way to grow and move forward. Sometimes, making mistakes will help you become a rightful person."

For a moment, Ceci just stares silently at the man before her. She notices the how his eyes glow silver when light shines upon them. She notices the tiny mole lying beneath his left eye that is only noticeable at the small distance separating them right now. His eyelashes are long - long enough for any woman to envy, long enough to make any woman swoon. Suddenly, she wonders how many have fallen just from the sight of him batting his eyelashes. Too many, she supposes.

Truly, Mr. Lamperouge is one handsome man. His beauty rivals that of the nobles and royals, that which people gush about during parties, sculptors wish to capture in their stones and painters in their canvases.

No wonder why Milly always notes about his appearance. Perhaps, that is also why she doesn't mind the growing pain at her nape while staring up at him. He is indeed pleasant to look at.

Staring... Oh, Heaven's, she is indeed staring up at him for too long! Embarrassed, Ceci quickly averts her eyes all the while noting that he, too, had been looking at her as long as she had. And when had they been standing so close to each other? She doesn't remember him taking another step closer.

Clearing her throat, Ceci says, "You are making a fair argument, Mr. Lamperouge. I shall remember your wise words from now on. If you would excuse me."

She had already turned around, ready to flee from the room as soon as possible, when he calls out to her.

"Miss Corabelle?"

Oh, just let her wallow alone in shame for a while! She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and plasters a welcoming smile as she turns to him.

"Yes, Mr. Lamperouge?"

He smiles at her a smile that greatly reminds her of Gino's bright ones. Though, the one that Mr. Lamperouge shows her is more of a charming smirk.

"Perhaps, the best way for the twins to wisely grasp the concept I proposed earlier is for them to see their beloved governess herself loosen the ribbons of formality and strict properness around her."

"I am very much fine with the way I am."

He shrugs. "I'm just saying. At least, they'll still have a reliable example to look up to."

When Ceci finally returns to her wards, surprisingly but not completely unexpected, the twins are at war with each other. Milly relays to her what had transpired between the two while she was away talking with Mr. Lamperouge.

It turns out that Nunnally and her ever truthful self confessed to her brother about opening up with Ceci which led to an upset and betrayed Rolo who declared that he won't be talking to his twin sister ever again.

Ceci tries to calm the two and lessen the animosity that is mostly emanating from Rolo, but unexpectedly, the former refuses to reconcile despite Ceci's efforts - despite trying the ways she always did to make him feel better. And more surprisingly, the little boy runs out of the Art Room and when Ceci follows him, she finds him on the corridor, clinging to none other than Mr. Lamperouge's right leg.

"It seems like we have a crisis here," the man comments.

"A crisis, yes, but nothing we couldn't handle."

Mr. Lamperouge only raises a brow in response then glances down at the boy who is hiding behind his thigh. "What do you want to do, elf boy?"

"I... Will you teach me again how to draw hair?" he answers in a small voice, avoiding his governess's eyes.

"Alright, we'll do that," Mr. Lamperouge retorts, then to Ceci he says, "We'll see you later, Miss Corabelle."

Ceci stops herself from appealing when she understands the meaning behind the man's gaze.

She stands there watching them go, willing Rolo to look back to assure him that everything will be right. Or perhaps, to assure herself that everything will be right. But he didn't, instead it is the taller figure who, without looking back, raises his palm to the level of his shoulder and slowly closes his hand into a fist.

_It is alright._

Unconsciously, Ceci smiles to herself. Look who is comforting her. Oh, look how the tables have turned.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 

And so Ceci and Lelouch, with their own kind of approaches, try to coax the restless hearts of the younger ones. Ceci with her gentle comforting words and stories of reconciliation and forgiveness told to Nunnally in the midst of the endless books in the library, and Lelouch with the sure and smooth strokes of his pencil, teaching the art of beauty and understanding to Rolo by the almost finished gazebo.

It took them a longer time, something that Ceci didn't expect, to finally convince the two to face each other. They met in the Sun Room where tears fell from the two pairs of soft purple eyes before hugs were shared and finally, smiles were exchanged. Nunnally gave Rolo the little story she wrote (or which she dictated and Ceci jotted down to be precise) and Rolo handed her the little portrait he did of his twin sister.

"This is amazing, Rolo," Ceci praises as she studies the boy's drawing.

"And this is quite creative, elf girl," says Lelouch while reading Nunnally's story.

"Oh, Mr. Lamperouge and I drew another one!"

Sitting in between the older man and Nunnally, Rolo turns the page of his sketchbook and Ceci, who is next to Nunnally, peers over his brown head to get a closer look of the picture.

"This is me pushing Nunnally on the swing while Miss Ceci and Mr. Lamperouge watch us underneath the apple tree."

"My hair is not that long," Nunnally observes.

"Well, Mr. Lamperouge said that with art, we can have our own interpretations of our subjects. And to me, your hair is so pretty and long."

Ceci looks intently at the drawing and notes the difference between the way the children and adults were drawn.

With Nunnally and Rolo, the strokes are more unsure and inconsistent yet still, the output is impressive for a seven-year old child. Meanwhile, Ceci and Lelouch are obviously done by someone with experience, someone who understands the language of lines and shadows, someone who can sketch beautifully regardless of the time limit.

The viscount is known for his exceptional talent in arts and at a young age, Rolo is showing potential in that field, too.

But, Mr. Lamperouge... Mr. Lamperouge is at the viscount's level of skills and if he is indeed telling the truth about being the latter's first borne then no wonder...

"What can you say, Miss Ceci?" Rolo's voice snaps her out of her thoughts and instantly, she tells him how well he did.

Nunnally adds as she points at the image of her governess, "Mr. Lamperouge did good, too. You look truly lovely here, Miss Ceci. Oh, is that how you see her, Mr. Lamperouge?"

"That's impossible," Rolo pouts, "He thinks she's a - " Quickly, he covers his mouth before he is able to spill their secret. Nervous, Rolo risks a glance at Mr. Lamperouge to check if the latter's angry but much to his confusion, he finds him looking seriously at the drawing, conveniently avoiding everyone's eyes. Rolo then transfers his gaze to his governess only to find her with a light blush peppering her cheeks.

"Mr. Lamperouge is just admirably talented in drawing," she silently answers.

Ignorant of the building tension, Nunnally giddily inquires, "Miss Ceci, can we put this on the wall of our room? So that we can see it when we wake up and before we go to sleep?"

Grateful for the distraction, Ceci nods and indulges the girl's request, intentionally ignoring the burning gaze at the side of her face. But much to her disappointment, the twins immediately run out of the room in order to post the drawing on their wall. Ceci stares longingly at the vacant space they left beside her, feeling anxious and deflated.

"So you think that I am admirably talented in drawing?"

She sighs then turns to the owner of the smug voice. "It is quite obvious, isn't it? Even the viscount was impressed by your skills."

With a permanent smile on his face, Mr. Lamperouge leans forward. With Rolo now gone to separate them, the man feels suddenly too close, too intimidating for Ceci's convenience. Why she feels intimidated, she does not understand. She was never wary of the man's presence around her before. Only when the children were with them. Yet, she doesn't back away from him.

"But it is a different kind of flattering when the praise came from you, Miss Corabelle."

"And why is that?"

Mr. Lamperouge shakes his head as if the answer is too obvious. "I don't know. Perhaps, because you've been hostile against me since I came here."

"I was not!" she gasps.

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. "All you did was threaten me if I do something harmful to the twins.""

"You gave me reasons to."

"You even slapped me," he points at his cheek.

"I – " "

"Which I indeed deserved." All of a sudden, the atmosphere turns serious. Gone is the playful teasing on Mr. Lamperouge's eyes, gone are the retorts on Ceci's lips. For a moment, they stare at each other for what seems like uncountable years, eyes connected with an invisible thread not allowing anyone to look away for a second. For Ceci, it is rather a hypnotic experience. Exhilarating even. Never in her life does she stare this long at a man. Never had she allowed herself to indulge on such acts of encompassing emotions that would distract her from taking care of the twins and outsmarting the viscount. But today, she did just that twice. Twice with the same man! A younger man at that, though this time is notably longer.

"I truly am remorseful for what I've carelessly said. I hope that you accept my wholehearted apology,  _ma'am_."

"You are already forgiven. I told you that it doesn't really matter to me so long as you treat the children kindly. And you've been proving yourself for days now. I just hope that this isn't short-lived and just for show."

"It isn't. I promise you. I've learned to appreciate the elves presence and," his smile returns, "Surprisingly, they're tolerable."

"And adorable," she adds.

"And adorable."

"Precious."

"Precious."

"Smart."

"Smart."

"And cute."

Mr. Lamperouge clears his throat. "And… cute?"

This time, Ceci grins in satisfaction. "Pleasant." She sticks a hand out between them which Mr. Lamperouge instantly accepts. "This is a truce."

"A truce? See, you were harboring ill-feelings towards me," the man says good-naturedly while shaking her hand.

"As you were with me."

"Perhaps, I was but not all the time. I mean..." Ceci waits for him to continue but Mr. Lamperouge only shakes his head and  _finally_ leans away. He rests his head against the back of the couch and sighs deeply. "You're right, Miss Corabelle. They are smart." He turns to her with a serious look on his face. "They remember and learn to apply teachings to their daily lives swiftly."

She mulls over his statement, thinks of how true it is based on her experiences. There is no doubt that Nunnally and Rolo, despite being young, have memory and understanding that surpass children of their age. Both of them are logically, emotionally, and morally intellectual which are a big factor why Ceci's job as their governess is easier and much more enjoyable than the others.

Happy to hear such compliment from someone who was formerly mean to her wards, it is only when Mr. Lamperouge had left the room does Ceci remember a couple of statement's earlier.

_"Well, Mr. Lamperouge said that with art, we can have our own interpretations of our subjects. And to me, your hair is so pretty and long."_

_"Mr. Lamperouge did good, too. You look truly lovely here, Miss Ceci. Oh, is that how you see her, Mr. Lamperouge?"_

No.

Of course not.

Impossible.

That isn't what he meant.

The thought is delusional.

And why would she assume such thing?

He was speaking in general terms when he praised the twins. There's no way that he implied something else. And why would he even mean that? For all she knows, Mr. Lamperouge might have a lovely lover left in his hometown.

Right, it's too assuming of her to even connect the twins' statements to his words. Good grief, Ceci, get a hold of yourself!

Rising from her seat, Ceci fixes her skirt before stomping her way out of the room. As if to stomp her ridiculous thoughts out of her mind.

* * *

And as if it's a key that opens the door of a lengthy, continuous passage, that day serves as an opening for Ceci and Mr. Lamperouge to spend more time with each other - of course, always with the presence of the twins and Milly - without any incident of scornful exchange between them.

In fact, for the lack of a better word, Ceci is enjoying the group that they somehow created right now. Mr. Lamperouge is surprisingly good with children despite how he tries so hard to mask his enjoyment through sneaky statements that would confuse the young ones, and sometimes, Ceci herself.

She observes that when he begins to fall into Nunnally and Rolo's charms, Mr. Lamperouge would pitch in some riddles or puzzling thoughts throwing them off guard.

Mr. Lamperouge is a man of implications, she understands that now. And of endless sly ideas.

One Monday, they were having a picnic under the shade of an apple tree in the garden when he decided to climb the tree to pick some apples. Ceci's protests fell into deaf ears and were drowned by the children's cheers.

In the end, Mr. Lamperouge did pick an apple but not without falling on his back after the branch he was clinging to break.

Torn between being startled and worried, Ceci reluctantly looked down at him, the question of his condition at the tip of her tongue when all of a sudden a hand yanked her down and she landed on a rather soft surface.

Her head laid on Mr. Lamperouge's stomach as she figured out how she ended up in that position.

"My dress is soiled," she had uttered after wits returned to her.

Mr. Lamperouge had laughed and she felt the rumble of his chest underneath her head. "Sometimes, you have to let yourself get dirty to experience fun. Haven't you climbed a tree before?"

She shook her head while staring up at the leaves above her. "I haven't. There was no reason to."

Suddenly, two brown heads blocked her view and Nunnally had asked, "Are you fine, Miss Ceci, Mr. Lamperouge?"

She hesitated - her waist still tingling by the sudden fall. She watched the leaves sway with the wind and realized that she hadn't looked at them the way she was looking at them that moment. Always, she was sitting properly, gazing ahead and around the garden, watching the children play and run, but never up - never flat on her back, with the scent of grass surrounding her.

She felt fingers playing with her hair. She answered with a smile, "We're fine."

Sometimes, she even found herself consulting the man regarding his talent to improve her technique and knowledge of the skill. Ceci is still the one who mainly teaches the twins about art but Mr. Lamperouge had taken a big role in exploring and providing expert opinions about the subject.

And he was more than just helpful.

He surprised her in one of her music lessons. Notes and melodies naturally came out of his fingers filling the room with melancholic tunes that moved his audience. In fact, Milly had her handkerchief on her face after his performance.

"You played impressively. Did you have a proper piano lesson?" she had asked him as she sat beside Mr. Lamperouge while studying the position of his fingers over the keys.

"I did, but it was brief. It was one of my mother's dreams she imposed on me."

At the mention of his parent, Ceci remembered the viscount's words about the other woman being incredibly ill.

"If it isn't a bother, may I ask how she is doing?"

He gave her a surprised look. "My mother?"

She nodded. "Yes. The viscount told me about her condition. Is she getting better?"

He looked away then cleared his throat. "She's holding on."

The trouble on his face was evident eliciting pity from the governess. How long had he been staying in the mansion? A month? Two months? She had lost count. And that's also how long he had been away from his ailing mother. She couldn't help but remember the time when her parents fell ill and she was away in both circumstances, taking care of other people. Guilt and despair ate her everyday as she read Shirley's letters reporting their worsening condition, wishing that she was there with them, personally attending to their needs. She could only imagine that Mr. Lamperouge was feeling the same.

"You can ask permission from the viscount so that you can pay her a visit," she solemnly suggested. "It is a difficult situation for a son to be separated with his sick mother for a long time. I believe the viscount will understand. And maybe, her health will improve when she sees her only son again."

Mr. Lamperouge was silent for a minute before muttering. "I'll keep that in mind."

Sometimes, during their free time, the twins will encourage Ceci to stay by the unfinished gazebo where they'll play 'Tag' while Mr. Lamperouge works with the builders nearby. Ceci, together with Milly, will sit by the bench as the latter inspects each man so as to dream and search for a potential love interest.

"I am a woman who prefers a man of action over a man who shuts himself in the office all day," the nanny gushes with eyes sparkling with romance. "Look at those biceps, Ceci! They could carry me up to our room where we would talk about our day and plans for tomorrow until we fall asleep."

The man who previously attacked Ceci was long gone, but still she keeps her senses alert, her mind present whenever she is near the gazebo.

"You prefer a man of activity over a man of intellect?"

Milly crosses her arms and huffs. "Who says that those who do physical labor can't be smart and that those stuck in their office are often intelligent? Say, Ceci, which do you prefer?"

"I don't think about those things."

"Oh, come now, dear! You don't let yourself be an ordinary maiden who thinks about men..."

"Because I don't."

"... you're twenty-six, Ceci, you should be looking for a husband and planning for your future family." Milly rolls her eyes. "I feel like we always have this conversation."

"Because you still insist and you do know how it is like for governesses like me," she shrugs, "Having a family... Just finding a husband is a farfetched dream for a woman of undefined status as I. Who would want to marry someone who stays in another house more than she lives on her own? Who will want someone as a wife who takes care of other children more than her own? No one, thus thinking about which type of man I prefer is useless."

"But Mrs. Corabelle had your father and she had you. Ceci, stop pitying yourself." She glares at Milly who only smiles at her coyly. "When true love strikes your heart, not even social status or your wards can stop you from listening and following your heart. You'll be rendered into an utter fool but a fool of the most amazing feeling on earth. Come now, entertain my silly question, will you?"

Ceci watches Rolo catch Nunnally. They're already gasping for air, their laughter turning into coughs. They've been playing for a while and summer cough is something that Ceci wants to badly avoid. She should call it a day but a little later - when their energy died down and their happiness has reached its climax.

Giving in, the governess sighs. "Both."

"Pardon?"

"I would like someone with both intellect and physical strength." She returns her eyes back to the nanny but as she does so, they catch a figure over the blonde lady's head. Mr. Lamperouge had abandoned his saw and is now guiding a sculptor as the latter sculpts Mr. Lamperouge's design on one of the pillars. Momentarily captured, Ceci watches as he meticulously inspects the stonework, caresses the marble and feels the carvings on it. She glances at Milly. "Well, it is alright if he isn't as strong as Goliath just as long as he is capable of doing the important tasks, but he must possess wit, practicality and of course, kindness."

"Hmm?" Milly hums while tapping her cheek. "I can only think of one person who fits your description. Mr. Kururugi."

It's Ceci's turn to roll her eyes, though she does it so mildly. "Now you are being completely delusional, Milly. Have you hit your head?"

"But he fancies you! And he is a wealthy businessman who has a good relationship with the viscount. He is of foreign blood, but he easily got the Master's trust."

Decided that she had filled Milly's fantasies, Ceci rises from her seat and begins approaching her wards.

"He is dreamy, too. You didn't see how he looked at you during the last party. He couldn't take her eyes off you. If I remember it correctly, he specifically asked for your presence, correct?"

Ceci doesn't spare the nanny an answer or even a simple glance. She continues to walk forward with cheeks as red as tomatoes. For indeed she knew what Milly was talking about. She had encountered the businessman herself, even shared a couple of conversations with him that night. To top it all off, Mr. Kururugi asked her for a dance and tried to talk to her in the balcony where only a few people stayed. Both offers she politely declined in the guise of prioritizing the twins.

But she had felt his gaze burning her skin throughout the whole night.

"Are you alright, Miss Corabelle?"

She jumps at the sudden interruption of her thoughts. "Oh, my heart!" she exclaims, her hand clutching her chest.

"Is perfectly in your chest. Sorry to startle you but it looks like something's troubling that pretty head of yours."

Finding her footing, Ceci glances up at Mr. Lamperouge who begins walking alongside her.

"I'm alright, Mr. Lamperouge. Thank you for asking."

"Say, I am a bit curious about what you said before."

The twins have seen them and are now waving exaggeratedly with their arms almost falling off their shoulders.

"What I said before?"

"About you carrying a knife. Do you have one now?"

She doesn't miss a beat. "I do."

"Why?"

Throwing him a quick glance, Ceci doesn't see the uneven rock her foot is going to land on. Losing her balance, she anticipated the soft ground when a large hand encircles her upper arm and she finds the back of her head colliding against a hard chest.

"Careful now, Miss Governess. I can't have you hurt under my watch."

His low whisper tickles her left ear. The moment she looks up, her eyes meet lazy violet ones paired with an equally lazy lopsided smile. His ebony fringe creates a black curtain around their faces, shrouding their expressions from their busy surroundings.

Her heartbeat races, her breath caught. Too close. She was never been this close to a man before. And his scent, he smells of wood and grass and afternoon hardwork. Two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, his collarbones peeking below his neck.

Another hand snakes around her waist then gently guides her to the flat ground. When a decent distance finally separates them from each other, Ceci quickly resumes her steps all the while with her head bowed down concealing her pink blush from Mr. Lamperouge. He lets her go ahead of him but she cannot deny the searing gaze digging her back.

"Because of situations like before," she hastily answers, hoping that resuming their earlier conversation would distract her from the embarrassment she feels.

"Does it happen often?"

She shakes her head. "Not really. Yet it is better to come prepared instead of becoming a victim without putting up a fight."

"'Not really' doesn't necessarily mean that it didn't happen before the latest attack."

The silence in his voice calls for her to turn around and face the man again. "What is it that you wish to accomplish with this conversation, Mr. Lamperouge?"

Casually inserting his hands in his pockets, Mr. Lamperouge flashes him an easy grin completely contrasting the tone of his voice before. "I'm fascinated with knives, too. I actually have one which I carried everywhere with me, though unfortunately, I don't have it now for it is under repair and redecoration. How about we exchange knowledge and techniques on wielding our little silvers?"

"Well – "– "

"Miss Ceci! Mr. Lamperouge!"

All of a sudden, Nunnally and Rolo are on her sides, sweaty and sunkissed, panting loudly like wild gazelles that just ran up and down the hills. "You've been taking too long to get to us so we decided to have a race to get to you," Nunnally cheerfully greets, beads of sweat peppering her forehead.

"Did you see how fast we run?" Rolo asks.

Ceci didn't. "Yes, I did. You're as fast as an arrow shooting in the air."

Gathering their hands, the governess sends an apologetic smile towards Mr. Lamperouge. "Can we talk about it later?"

Mr. Lamperouge renders a bow. "As you wish, my lady. I'll be around."

Nevertheless, another day has come when the viscount asks Ceci of his so-called first borne's behavior and attitude in his estate. Considering the unexpected turn of events, the governess ponders over how she would be reporting almost all good things about their guest when she decided he was bad news during his first weeks in the mansion.

"The children are fond of him?" inquires the viscount with amusement and surprise coloring his voice.

"Yes, they are."

"And how about you, Miss Corabelle?"

"I can say that Mr. Lamperouge has been kind to them. And he is a great help in teaching art to the little masters."

The viscount hums in what Ceci, based on her experience, could only conclude as amusement. He neither believes her nor not. In the end, his judgment of Mr. Lamperouge will solely rely on how he feels about him no matter what she reported to him. He taps the wooden surface of his office table, effectively diverting her attention to his fingers.

"Don't you think that it is his way to easily gain our trust and all of these niceties he has been showing us are nothing but masks to cover his real intentions?"

Ceci lifts her chin up though her throat feels like it's closing. "I haven't discounted that possibility, sir."

"Really now?" The tapping stops. "Because from what I've been hearing around, it seems like not only my children are fond of Mr. Lamperouge."

She gulps but maintains her composure. "I assure you that my judgment will remain objective and I shall always put the twins as my first priority. The truth is what I shall only relay."

For a moment, she is subjected to a silent scrutiny where the viscount's sharp violet eyes look for broken crevices of her resolute armor, but Ceci is used to this act of his. Ever since she was young, her expressions, her manners were watched by the viscount's parents (God bless their souls) as she underwent rigorous lessons until she was deserving to be her mother's successor.

Ever since she was in her teens, when the truth of her situation became clear and inevitable, the viscount had pinned a critical eye on her to assure that Ceci wouldn't cause disgrace to his beloved name.

And since then, Ceci had learned to conceal her emotions, to bury her desires underneath proper etiquette and courtesy until they got completely forgotten.

What she had told Milly earlier was wrong. It's not that she doesn't think about things like infatuation and love at all. It's not that she sees being distracted by men is a nuisance. It's that she doesn't know anymore how to feel such emotions while considering them as something harmless and as a source of happiness.

Years of training had made her a canvas of pure black and white. Gray was never an option.

"Well then," the viscount shrugs. "On other matters, two weeks from now, a party will be held to celebrate the gazebo's finished construction. I want you and the children to go to the tailor for their attires this week. Bring Mr. Lamperouge with you. He will be coming to the party, too."

"Will his clothes be charged on him?"

"No. It will be under my name. Including yours."

Taken aback, Ceci furrows her eyebrows in confusion. "Mine?"

The viscount nods. "Someone will be glad to see you again."

Ceci stops herself from biting her lips as a face immediately appears in her mind.

"That would be all. You're dismissed."

* * *

It's past dinnertime.

Even past their bedtime.

But here they are in the confines of the second kitchen where he first saw her eat alone, juggling and throwing knives at each other like professional acts in a circus.

This is past his logical reasoning.

No amount of drafts and scratches of love letters to his lover could stop Lelouch from desiring to spend more and more time with the governess of the house.

The truce was a bad idea. Oh, it was the devil itself. The peace between them only unraveled Miss Corabelle's sides and quirks unknown to him and it's like discovering the most enchanting waterfalls sitting in the depths of the forest.

Nowadays, he constantly berates himself. For wanting to touch her. For wanting those sunlight eyes to gaze up at him. For wanting to remove all of her hairpins so he can run his fingers through her long emerald hair.

For wanting to accompany her during dinner while he listens to her stories and stiff outlooks in life until time is but a concept and they would only stop when the sun starts peeking in the horizon and they have to go back to mere house acquaintances. For being the reason of her smile.

To make her laugh.

Damn, he would want to make her laugh. To hear her bell-like laughter which was how the twins described it.

Oh, he is in danger. In total, absolute, inevitable danger.

"Where did you learn that trick?" Miss Corabelle asks after he threw a kitchen knife in the air and caught it with its handle after he spun on his place.

"From the streets. The streets taught me a lot." He bestows her a long stare - meaningful enough to convey how brutally the streets had taught him tricks at such a young age.

"That was dangerous," she quietly comments.

Lelouch shrugs as he begins to juggle two knives. "Danger can teach us so many lessons that one cannot acquire in the safety of their homes." He catches one knife and throws it at Miss Corabelle's direction which the latter flawlessly captured by its handle. Lelouch, impressed, adds that skill of hers to his box of  _things he finds attractive but he shouldn't get attracted to._ "One and most important example is survival. But what we should be discussing here is where and why you learn to play with sharp objects."

He hears it first before he realizes what passed by his right ear. The blow of air tickles his eardrum as the sound of silver landing on wood resonates behind him. Turning around, he finds the knife she caught earlier perfectly stuck in the middle of the hanging chopping board.

"It was a family tradition. Father taught my sister and me of the sacredness and craftsmanship of silverwares especially knives. Knives were his favorite."

"Why? Do you have a family business related to it?"

When he receives no answer, he gazes back to his companion. Miss Corabelle is already glaring at the clock sitting by the corner of the kitchen.

"It's this late, already?" she mutters worriedly. "My apologies, but I have to excuse myself for the evening. Have a good night, Mr. Lamperouge."

"Wait!" He's an idiot, that's what he is. A fool, a stupid man who has his lover back in his hometown yet entertains the idea of walking another woman to her room in the middle of night. "Why don't we go together? After all, our rooms are just next to each other."

Miss Corabelle hesitates. The struggle between considering what's proper and acceptable is reflected in her eyes. And as she continues to remain conflicted, Lelouch begins regretting spouting such self-assured words.

"I mean, if it's alright with - "

"Alright."

For the first time since he came to the mansion, the journey along the dark corridors feels suffocating. Anytime now, the walls will collapse and bury them under its rubbles. The portraits will come to life, their ghosts will fly restlessly around them blubbering tragic life stories and curses. And the floor will open beneath them, large cracks will snake in between their feet until fall into the hole, eating them alive by soil and lava.

It is chaotic, the apocalypse happening right before their eyes and they will be the first casualties.

But in reality, it is only Lelouch's heart thumping wildly in his chest as he walks beside the governess. He is breathless. His lungs are failing to function properly. Is he sick? Is he dying?

No.

Not at all.

He knows the reason why but this time, he decides to deny himself of the explanation. For he had never felt this way before whenever he was with Kallen. And this, relating this elation to something unpleasant is his way to at least consider his lover.

Oh, Lelouch you are in big trouble. A trouble you have to escape as soon as he can. In fact, right now.

"Here we are. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Lamperouge."

When did they reach their rooms? It's a miracle he didn't collide with anything and caused disturbance in the solemnity of the estate. It's a miracle he didn't embarrass himself infront of Miss Corabelle.

"I look forward to it, my lady. Good night."

It's past dinnertime.

Even past their bedtime.

This is past his logical reasoning.

But Lelouch Lamperouge stays up all night drafting love letters and what not's for Kallen Stadfeldt. Yet nothing he had written seemed enough, no words seemed to equal the redhead's adoration for him. For each stroke of his pen, a different face haunts his mind until he gives up and irritably throws his pen across the room.

As a habit, he grabs his pencil and sketchbook and begins doing the only thing that could keep him sane tonight. And as the night progresses, he lets his hand follow its inaudible beat, his mind blank, his eyes dazed, until a face so delicate and lovely transpires on the paper.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"One, two, one, two, one, two, and twirl."

The echoes of leather against wood resonate in the Ball Room as Ceci teaches the children how to dance waltz. Rolo had accidentally stepped on her shoes four times in a row and Nunnally had been having a giddy dizzy spell everytime they spin. It was the late Lady Anne who taught Ceci of the basics of the dance which she herself, didn't master at once. After all, Lady Anne was a poor teacher back then. Lady Anne who turned their dance lessons into child's play - every step was accompanied by silly laughter - until Ceci's mother intervened to properly teach her daughter the right ways to sway with the rhythm. Ah, Lady Anne who was the light of the estate, the joy of her people, the treasure of the viscount. Are you watching right now, Madame? Ceci is teaching your children now just as how you taught her when she was younger.

"I'm sorry, Miss Ceci!" Rolo gasps as his foot stomps on hers again.

Ceci shakes her head. "Do not worry. I'm alright. Now, just focus on the music and let your body and feet speak its language."

From the other side of the room, a giggle resounds from Nunnally's lips. Ceci peeks and sees how the child is standing on her place while holding her head.

"I'm dizzy, Mr. Lamperouge!" she announces in between chuckles.

"That's because you spun too fast." Hands on his hips, Mr. Lamperouge entertains the child's dramatics with a glimmer of enjoyment sparkling in his eyes.

Ceci holds Rolo's hand and directs them towards the other pair. "We can take a break for now. We cannot have little Nunnally lose her head from too much spinning."

Rolo raises his hand. "Oh, I have an idea, Miss Ceci."

"Go on."

"Can you and Mr. Lamperouge show us the dance together?"

Beside him, Nunnally eagerly nods which unfortunately only worsens her condition. "He's right, Miss Ceci. Will you dance with Mr. Lamperouge?"

Ceci can only glance at the man beside her who instantly bows his head and offers his hand.

"May the respectable governess of the house grant me this dance?" Mr. Lamperouge asks.

Ceci signals at the pianist before accepting the man's hand. As soon as the first notes of the music fills the room, their feet take their first steps harmoniously, each one is of surety and precise beat.

"Watch where we place our feet and how they respond to each other," she lectures. "Be light on your feet as if you're stepping on the water's surface."

"If our steps are heavy, we will drown," Nunnally recites.

"Right. And if you do that while dancing, you might miss a beat or injure your ankle."

"Are there going to be many people in papa's party?" Rolo inquires. "Do we have to dance with all of them?"

"There will be a lot. You don't have to dance with everyone. Dance when and with whom you are comfortable with. Never forget your manners."

"We won't, Miss Ceci."

"Well, do I also have to dance with everyone, Miss Ceci?"

Looking up, Ceci is greeted with her partner's playful gaze. "I believe that you are capable enough to determine who you would want to dance with, although, courtesy and manners shall play a role while you mingle with others. Remember, the viscount's visitors are no ordinary people. And that is 'Miss Corabelle' for you, Mr.  _Lamperouge_."

Mr. Lamperouge only chuckles at her litany of reminders which leaves Ceci frowning. Without any warning, her feet are off the ground, a pair of wide hands grasping her small waist. The governess lets out a surprised squeak as she is lifted into the air while Mr. Lamperouge does a 180° turn. The unexpected action caused her to tighten her grip on his shoulders, almost crushing his bones.

"That is not part of the dance!" she gasps as soon as she's on the ground again, her heart pounding.

Mr. Lamperouge laughs. "That is to erase the serious look on your face. I was just jesting. Really, Miss Corabelle, you should loosen up."

"Can we do that, too?" the twins ask.

Mr. Lamperouge winks at her before attending to the children and indulging their request. Unbeknownst to Ceci, a small smile is painted on her lips as she watches the trio have fun. The music was changed to something livelier, the atmosphere seemingly brighter. The scene reminds her of those times when she and Shirley would happily dance with their father while imagining there was music playing in the background.

Mr. Fenette would lift them up, higher than what Mr. Lamperouge did earlier, as if they were sea gulls soaring in the air. These pretend parties of theirs were a product of little Ceci's stories of the celebrations happening in the Britannia Estate and Shirley's request to relive the events.

"Come, Miss Corabelle. Don't miss out on the fun."

Ceci stares at Mr. Lamperouge's outstretched hand, glances up at those twinkling violet eyes, and with her own starry ones, she puts her hand over his and is pulled into the universe of flying children and singing feet.

* * *

The repair of the Fenette Shop's sign board is meticulously coming to an end. As it turned out, Lelouch had proposed to engrave the letters on wood for a more lasting quality which Shirley gladly accepted. So now, after Lelouch's several visits, they finally arrived at the stage of painting the sign board. Huddled over the piece of wood, Gino carefully traces each dip and curve with the color of ebony.

"What do you think? The shop will give you a fair part of the profit in respect of your design and of course, you will be credited," asks Gino.

Sweat dangerously trickles on Lelouch forehead but before a droplet lands on the wet surface, the man was able to wipe it with his white handkerchief.

"How much?"

"Shirley agreed on a quarter of the total profit from your designed products."

"A quarter? How about a third? You said that several customers have inquired and were interested in my design. And I am certain that you wouldn't sell it at a low cost, correct?"

"That might be..." Too much, Gino wants to say. But he cannot risk Lelouch from backing out of the negotiation now that when Shirley displayed Lelouch's customized knife at the center of the shop, a lot of people began asking if it was for sale. Many were enchanted by the design, a lot were willing to buy it at a price more than they expected. And Shirley had seen this as an opportunity to increase the sales of the shop at rapid phase. Not only townspeople were the ones who're interested, but noblemen alike.

Do they have more of the design, they asked. Can they customize one for them, too, they said.

In the week that the knife was on display, they received more than a hundred of queries and the Fenette Shop is a fool if it wouldn't grab this rare opportunity.

So here is Gino, with his bright smile and even brighter personality, tasked to conversed with Lelouch about regularly supplying designs for the shop to produce.

But a third of the profit? That would be too much of a cut in Gino's opinion. After all, they have workers to pay and materials to purchase. Most importantly, the main purpose of this venture is to add on the Fenette's savings - a help for Ceci's plan, and his and Shirley's wedding.

"... negotiated," Gino thoughtfully ends.

"Hmm," hums Lelouch while painting the letter "e". "It's not that I am greedy about the money, but having my design get produced to hundreds of products, for it to possibly reach even the farthest island from this town, to outlive you and me, I think I deserve more than just a quarter. It's the legacy of this shop that would be remembered not mine."

"I understand. This is business after all. I'll tell Shirley about your proposal."

"Speaking of proposals, so how's the wedding preparation going on? I guess that it is where most of the earnings are intended to."

Ever the perceptive Lelouch. "That and other equally important matter. We are currently in the process of addition and deduction. Listing the things we need and removing those that aren't essential to the ceremony."

"Have you told Miss Fenette's older sister?" Frowning, Lelouch wipes the drop of black that accidentally fell out of the engraving with his thumb.

Gino hands him a rug, rescuing the latter's hand from more careless smearing. "We haven't," he answers.

"May I ask why?"

"As I've told you before. She has other matters to worry."

Lelouch turns to him and raises a skeptical brow. "More important than her sister's wedding? Come to think of it, I haven't seen her around here. She doesn't help with the shop?"

"That's because she doesn't live here. Her work requires her to stay away from her family." Gino contemplates on mentioning Ceci's name in their conversation but immediately disregards the thought upon remembering that his friend lives near the estate and the danger of Lelouch slipping the secret to Ceci is too plausible to risk. "The Fenette Sisters have their own way of handling the circumstances presented to them. Despite being away from each other, they are each other's strength and encouragement to overcome any hurdle infront of them."

"You're scary when you are serious," Lelouch grins. "I was just curious."

Gino scrunches his nose with nothing to reply. For a while they silently work side-by-side on painting the sign board in the shop's yard. The familiar hum of everyday life surrounding them gives Gino a peaceful atmosphere that is both comforting and energizing for him. He never thinks of leaving their little town. From his great-great-great grandfather, the Weinbergs have resided in this part of England where everyone knows everybody, where even the sunset feels like the sunrise.

Popular for their sparkling hair and even more sparkling personality, the Weinbergs have always been the life of the party with optimism coloring their eyes. And his bright personality was what led him to Shirley.

They were ten back then, young and naive. He just went back from fishing with his father and decided to have some fresh air when he found her by the meadow sulking as she picked flowers from the ground. He remembered getting charmed by her freckles. They were very much prominent back then than now and she hated it. Still hates it, but a hate that is out of routine not of anguish.

_"Why do you have stars on your face?" he asked, completely surprising the unaware girl._

_"Stars?" Shirley repeated._

_Gino gestured around her face and said, "Stars or perhaps, they are stardust. I can't remember my teacher's lesson well but don't tell my father."_

_Shirley, on the other hand, had covered the lower part of her face and without any warning, kicked Gino's leg then left._

Gino is very much fond of that memory. He didn't run after her but stood on his ground and thought that she was indeed a star, she exploded.

"Anyway, I have a few more questions." The sudden seriousness in Lelouch's voice piques Gino's interest. "How did you know..."

He waits.

"... that Miss Fenette is the one you wanted to marry?"

"I just know."

The other man stares at him, obviously confused by his vague answer.

Gino lets out a light chuckle. "It's something that is hard to explain. Because you just feel it. And if you do, you'll know."

"What about the other ladies?"

"There are no other ladies. It has always been Shirley."

"But what if you find someone else that will make you feel differently? More intense than what you feel for Miss Fenette. A feeling that you never knew existed and will make you do stupid things? Someone who'll make you realize that the earth can open up anytime beneath you but it will be alright as long as you're together?"

Huh, such passionate questions coming from Lelouch. Putting his brush down, Gino sits on the ground and mulls over his companion's queries. "Are we talking in the context of having a present lover yet meeting someone else who, I suppose, can make you feel more than what your lover can do?"

Lelouch nods.

Gino hums. "Well, the man should break it off with his lady. It will truly be unfair of him to keep her by his side when his heart is already owned by someone else."

"But the man is confused. Because what if what he feels for the other woman is just something flitting, something that will pass eventually. There will be no one he can return to."

"Why does he need someone to return to at once? He can use that solitary time to gather his thoughts and determine what he really wanted. Keeping his lover and pinning for the other woman will only be unfair for both of the ladies and such a foolish thing to do of the man." When Lelouch remains silent, Gino playfully slaps the former's back earning him a glare. Gino laughs. "Are you, by any chance, trapped in such pitiful situation?"

Lelouch shakes his head. "It is a friend of mine," is his short answer.

Feeling merciful, Gino doesn't tease his rumpled companion any further yet his mind remains skeptic. After all, the fact that Lelouch asked those questions implies that he is truly bothered by the situation. Giving a final piece of wisdom, or rather, giving the wisest words he can think of at the moment, Gino rests his arms on his knees and stares at the almost finished sign board.

"Nonetheless, it is not the number of lips you've kissed that will define a man but how many genuine and loving kisses you've shared with  _a_  woman."

* * *

Ceci is never a woman who lavishes on expensive and extravagant things as soon as she receives her keep from being the estate's governess. Instead, only a quarter of her money remains in her drawer while the rest are going to be sent to her sister. After all, she's in no need of such riches since all of her necessities are well provided by the estate. Might as well have her savings in a place that she knows is safe and in the hands of her most trusted people.

But now, not only she is going to send away her earnings, she will also distribute letters of advertisement to the party's guests along with the invitations.

It is a move too risky and something that will put her on the viscount's bad side if he ever finds out about it. So with special instructions written, she advertised the Fenette's silverware stealthily to the nobles and commoners alike.

That afternoon, Ceci, together with the Britannia twins and Mr. Lamperouge, heads to the city to have their dresses made for the upcoming party.

In the tailor shop, Nunnally, with her undying ball of energy, specifically mentions wanting to have a pink dress with yellow and blue flowers embroidered on the skirt. Meanwhile, Rolo opts on a simple dress shirt and baby blue coat paired with a pair of dark blue shorts. A blue bow will rest in between the collar of his shirt.

A party is something that is not done quite often in the mansion, but when the viscount decided to hold one, he made sure that it would be one of those remembered and awed by. So if ever that time arrives, new attires with the most expensive fabrics and detailed designs are made for the twins unintentionally making them the center of the party.

"Is it really alright with the viscount to pay for my attire? Is it really alright for me to come to the party?" Mr. Lamperouge whispers to Ceci, both of them sitting beside each other after having their measurements collected.

"It was the viscount's instructions," she answers while watching Rolo stand so stiffly before the seamstress and so to avoid Mr. Lamperouge's looming presence next to her.

"I wouldn't know anyone there." She hears the pout in his voice and she can't help but to smile inwardly.

"As long you show proper etiquette and courtesy, you have nothing to worry about."

"Ah, perhaps, it's time for me to show up during your etiquette lessons from now on. Say, Miss Corabelle, are you willing to teach a humble novice like me?"

At this, she looks at him coyly feigning innocence. "But I only accept students who can sit properly on their seats and do not put their feet on top of tables."

Clearing his throat, Mr. Lamperouge fixes the lapels of his coat and sits with his back straight as a stick. "I think I can pass that," he answers with a playful smile of his own.

For a while, Ceci forgets that they aren't the only people inside the room and she is pleasantly distracted by the man's clear amethyst eyes. Mesmerized, enchanted by those pools of violet, she stares at them looking for their deepest pits. It's like looking into two deep wells which bottoms are dark and unfathomable. At this distance, she notes how his eyes are slightly darker than the viscount's. The color of elegance, of royalty. While the shade of the Britannia's eyes are that of sweet lavenders, Mr. Lamperouge's exudes elitism which could easily be mistaken as unnecessary pride.

"Amazing," the man, who is also staring at her, utters in bewilderment.

"Hm?"

"You carry the sun on your face. Gold? Butter? Canary?" He leans closer as he squints. "Perhaps, dandelion. Those eyes are a painter's dream."

"Then, yours?" she whispers.

"We're all done, Miss Corabelle. Please expect the clothes to be delivered next week."

Ceci turns her attention to the seamstress who has the twins by her sides. Nunnally and Rolo quickly sit between her and Mr. Lamperouge who is left staring at her. She can feel his burning gaze at the side of her face like a small rock trapped inside her shoe yet she chooses to ignore it for what she had said earlier was so out of her character, so out of her comfort zone.

Good gracious, did they just have a flirtatious conversation?

The seamstress words fall out of inattentive ears as Ceci tries hard to conceal the warmth that's engulfing her cheeks. She tries hard to stop herself from touching and covering her cheeks infront of everybody.

As if in a daze, they are suddenly out of the shop without Ceci's notice. Mr. Lamperouge and her walk around the plaza holding the twins between them.

"Are we going home now?" asks Rolo.

"We sho - " The boy's hopeful stare stops Ceci from finishing her sentence. Instead, she goes on to contemplate how this is one of those rare times the twins get to wander outside the mansion without the viscount's presence. After all, they don't have any problem with transportation since the carriage is waiting for them nearby. "We can look around for a while. Where do you want to go?"

Of course, they went to a toy store where the twins ooh and aah at everything they lay their eyes on. Rolo is immediately captured by a toy train display while Nunnally instantly runs to the doll section.

"Please be careful!" Ceci calls after them.

"We will!"

"Miss Corabelle! It's nice to see you and the young masters back here!"

Behind the counter is the shop's young apprentice who always welcomes and assists the little Britannias. Mr. Maldini is a familiar friendly face whose heart stays like a child's and brings comfort to the shops young customers.

"It's nice to see you, too, Mr. Maldini. How have you been? How's the business so far?"

"I'm quite fine, Miss Corabelle. The shop's been busy recently after the new doll house model came out last week." Ceci follows his finger and finds a large Victorian style doll house – with height that reaches her waist she estimated – at the center display of the shop. And beside it is a gushing Nunnally who is listening intently to the staff's explanation.

"It is priced quite expensively since it came from France but we already received more than a hundred of orders and counting. The duke alone ordered ten of it in different colors," Mr. Maldini says while shaking his head in disbelief.

"France? It must be of great quality then."

"And the details are impressive, too."

She is startled by the deep voice that came from behind her. Scrambling for words, Ceci quickly apologizes for failing to introduce her companion to the apprentice earlier.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Mr. Maldini, let me introduce Mr. Lamprouge, a guest of the viscount. Mr. Lamperouge, this is Mr. Maldini, the owner's apprentice."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Maldini."

"My pleasure to meet one of the viscount's guests, Mr. Lamperouge. Feel free to check our items. Do you have a younger sister? A younger brother? You might find the perfect gift for them here."

Mr. Lamperouge clears his throat while Ceci focuses on the wall behind the counter.

"I'll do that," the man reluctantly answers.

"Perfect! Oh, welcome Miss Alstreim, Miss Nu! What can I do for you?"

A shy head of blooming cherry blossoms together with a woman of long silky silver hair enter the shop. Standing on her place, Ceci lifts her chin as the taller woman approaches the counter. Miss Alstreim, the child of spring, immediately perks up as soon as her eyes landed on Ceci.

"Good day, Miss Corabelle! Are you with Nunnally and Rolo today?"

Excitement is such a natural feeling a children possesses, correct? Something that is almost innate to them, a feeling of elation that makes them a ball of uncontrollable but adorable energy. Yes, yes, being excited is like the children's second skin. It brings Ceci delight everytime she sees the twins excited about something. They glow, they sparkle as they talk about it in tangled stumbling words.

That is what Miss Alstreim's face wears today but it is soon gone as her governess speaks. Or more appropriately, reprimands.

"Lower your voice, Miss Alstreim. That is not the way of a proper lady."

Cheeks red, Miss Alstreim bows her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Miss Nu."

"You never learn, don't you? We've been through courtesies and etiquette for a while now yet as soon as you're outside, you turn into a wild boar. Do you really want me to tell your father about this?"

Ceci's left eye twitches.

"Please don't tell papa, Miss Nu."

"Then listen and do what I say. Why can't you be as easy as your older siblings? Look at them, they're smart, principled..."

Ceci clenches both of her fists.

"And well-mannered. If you'll just be one good girl."

There's a silent agreement among governesses, a unanimous respect towards each other that one shouldn't challenge the way another governess takes care of her ward. It is a decided statement that was never written nor said but is followed by women of this job. It's comparable to that of how parents raise their children.

Yet there are certain times that Ceci wishes to break that tradition. Times like now, times whenever she encounters Miss Villeta Nu, the strict disciplinarian of the Alstreim Household.

Surely there is a thick line that separates being a responsible guardian who altruistically thinks of her ward's wellbeing from being just plain cruel to a child.

Miss Nu is an older governess. One who had taken care of two older children before little Anya. Her ways are already tested with how her former wards turned out to be respectable young adults. But still... It isn't right to treat Miss Alstreim harshly in public for being excited to see her friends.

Gathering her skirt, Ceci steps forward and starts to talk, "Miss Nu, why - "

"Well, why must a lovely lady wrinkled her forehead about such trivial matters?"

Both women look up at Mr. Lamperouge who has a charming smile on his face. Surprised by the sudden interruption, Ceci watches as he enchants Miss Nu with his flattering words.

"Pardon? And who are you?" says Miss Nu.

Mr. Lamperouge tips his imaginary hat. "My name's Lelouch Lamperouge, ma'am. Why wear a frown on your face when you can be the loveliest lady when you smile?"

Suddenly conscious, Miss Nu touches her cheeks as she completely forgets her anger and her ward. Ceci frowns.

"Y-You are spouting lies, mister," Miss Nu says shyly.

"Me? I only utter truths. And I know how to look at faces critically for I am a painter."

Over the older woman's hair, his eyes meet Ceci's. He winks at her while Miss Nu has her head bowed.

Turning to her right, Ceci grabs Miss Alstreim's small hand and shows her a kind smile. "Would you like to go to Nunnally and Rolo?"

Little Anya worriedly peeks at her blushing governess before answering Ceci. "Can I?"

"Of course, dear. Come."

It is not so much, but at least, in this moment, little Anya will be spared from her caretaker's careless words.

* * *

"You were such a charmer."

"Was I? I thought I was saving that little girl from that woman."

The day is almost coming to an end. The sun is low painting the sky with pink, orange and blue. The twins are contently walking ahead of them hand-in-hand while marveling on the busy streets of the Capital.

It is funny how just a few weeks before, Lelouch was nothing but a stranger with no map to navigate the place but now, he is familiar to almost all of the alleys and secret passages like a cat who guards its territory thanks to Gino's guidance.

There, right at the corner is the pub he'd rather forget because of the bitter and embarrassing memory he had acquired there. On their left, they are about to pass the narrow alley which leads to Mr. Wilkins' Shoe Store.

Two blocks from where they are is the theater hall which never runs out of people. Once, Lelouch was curious about the play it was showing but immediately disregarded the idea of buying a ticket after seeing its expensive price.

"Miss Nu can be unbearable... sometimes." The last word was spoken in such a low tone that Lelouch glances down at the governess and finds her frowning at nothing.

"You don't like her?"

"Well," Miss Corabelle scrunches her nose which is an expression he doesn't expect to see her do (and which is too adorable and youthful) that he has to clench his fists behind his back. "She has a different way in raising children which was already proven to be effective. But every child is different from the other and you cannot use the same method and expect them to react similarly." She sighs. "Especially with a child like Miss Alstreim. She is softer than Nunnally. More shy and quiet. The only time that I see her truly enjoying herself is when she is with her playmates."

"You were angry earlier."

"And how could you say that?"

Pointing at his eyes, Lelouch smirks. "As I've said before, nothing escapes my notice."

The governess scoffs good-naturedly. "Oh, I thought that was just to appease Miss Nu's doubts... Rolo, don't pull at Nunnally's hand too hard. "

"And I've also said earlier that I only utter truths."

Miss Corabelle shows him a little smile that brightens her face and he almost trip while walking. "That's impossible. No man could live his life without lying twice."

He does not retort.

Instead, he thinks of how he has been living with the Britannias because of his lies - lies necessary to get their sympathy and affection so as to make his mission easier to fulfill. However, guilt recently begins crawling in his mind like a pest slyly invading a garden of roses. He had admitted it, he is happy with how the way things are progressing between him and the twins, between him and Miss Corabelle regardless whether he is a legitimate son or not. The relationship growing among them is something he had never experienced in his hometown. Definitely not with his mother and even the time he spends with Gino is much more enjoyable and relaxed than those that he had with Luciano. In fact, the inheritance is now the last thing in his mind.

What he fears now is for this little bubble of sunshine to burst. Lies, lies and lies accumulate them continuously and it will fill the bubble until it explodes.

So he had decided to make the first step to make amends with the God of Truth and that is to write a letter.

To Kallen.

Of apologies and honesty.

Of regret and humility.

A letter that will be stripped of lies and false promises.

For the biggest sin he had already committed is to pursue his feelings towards Miss Corabelle while sending Kallen fake romance letters just to appease her fear.

After that conversation with Gino, he realized the hurt he will cause his lover if she ever finds out about his actions. Kallen, dear Kallen who is always strong and firm, he cannot bear to see those blue eyes to be filled with hurt because of a man who does not deserve her.

And afterwhich, if he somehow comes out of that predicament barely bruised; will he formally court Miss Corabelle?

He doesn't know.

Hell, he doesn't even know what he is doing right now exchanging words that causes the butterflies in his stomach flutter.

Lately, he is just acting on instinct, on the direction where his heart is beating which always leads to her.

_"Perhaps, dandelion. Those eyes are a painter's dream."_

_"Then, yours?"_

Oh, Miss Corabelle, you don't know how many times he had dreamed of you at night.

He stops on his track and watches her back while she walks away from him. Then he wanders his gaze around the crowded street and returns it back to her. It's funny how he can easily recognize her among the sea of people now. Unknowingly, he had memorized her mannerisms and posture that even with several people separating them apart, he will spot her narrow shoulders, the smooth slope of her neck, her ever proper posture, and of course her emerald tresses that are perpetually tucked in a tight tail.

And it isn't because he is a painter who wears a critical eye.

"Miss Corabelle!" he calls.

She turns around. "Yes?"

"You didn't wait for me!"

She chuckles. "Are you making me choose between you and the children?"

Lelouch looks beyond her and at the twins who are eagerly waiting for him, too. He shakes his head helplessly. A fool, that is what he is. "Well, that would be an obvious defeat."

* * *

She's here. She actually made it here.

Far from the heat of the southern England, away from the confinements of her little village, Kallen is finally here.

In the Capital.

Where everything seems larger and wider.

Where everyone seems fancier and louder.

With only a luggage in tow, Kallen Stadtfeld stands open-mouthed at the center of the plaza completely overwhelmed by the bright lights surrounding the place.

"Move!"

Heavy hooves almost knock her off of her feet as a fast carriage rushes behind her. Startled, the young woman ungracefully jumps out of its way bumping onto an unknown man who smells like cigarettes.

"Careful, young lady."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

She wanders around the place aimlessly, taken aback by the restless energy and invading sounds until she finds a cheap inn where she would stay for three days.

Three days, that's how long she would be staying in this unknown land with strangers and their charging carriages.

Three days, that's how long she needed to find Lelouch in this vast land and see how he is doing.

Three days, that's how long her heart needs to appease her worries and doubts that had been keeping her up late at night.

She just needs to see him and then she will leave.

That is, if she still wanted to leave after seeing him.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the start of a new journey!
> 
> Just a little note, I'm not thoroughly knowledgeable about European nobility and how their old society worked so this is an advance apology for the mistakes that I would commit regarding this matter. However, I'll try my best to research and make this accurate as much as possible. Though, I might do some unconventional changes in order for it to fit the story. Please feel free to correct me if I made some careless mistakes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass but LuluC owns me :-)
> 
> Reviews are highly appreciated. See you soon!


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